


These Paths We Tread

by TMWolf



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Allspark, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Battles, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fanfiction, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots, Science Fiction, Self-Insert, Slow Romance, emotional romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 339,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMWolf/pseuds/TMWolf
Summary: Catherine Wolf has been friends with Sam Witwicky for as long as she can remember, and been in love with him for the past two years. Unfortunately, Sam has been in love with Mikeala Banes for even longer. To make matters worse, an alien race of transforming robots made of two factions-- Autobots and Decepticons-- from the planet Cybertron come to Earth searching for a powerful artifact they call the Allspark. By some strange working of fate, Catherine is pulled into a war not of her making, and finds she has a much greater role to play than she realized.  A friendship will be tested, unlikely love will be found, war will be raged, and a young woman will find her place in the world.And to think it all started with a pair of glasses...(Autobot x OC 'cause y'all are fun when you keep guessing xD)
Relationships: Bumblebee & Sam Witwicky, Carly Spencer/Sam Witwicky, Chromia/Ironhide, Elita One/Optimus Prime, Mikaela Banes/Sam Witwicky, Sarah Lennox/William Lennox, Sideswipe (Transformers)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 87
Kudos: 143
Collections: An Assortment of Damn Good Fics, Transformers





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is actually old and was completed years ago, but I never joined AO3 until now. The story still holds firm over the years, so I decided heck yeah I'll post it :) Due to it's age, though, I ask forgiveness for my writing not being as good as more recent fics I've written and will post, and please excuse spelling mistakes. I do try to find them all but my eyes and Microsoft Word still fail me at times XD;;

While the summary is short, I can assure you there is much more to this story than meets the eye (yeah, I went there, ha ha). When it first started it was a simple idea to have my personal character/myself be part of the Transformers trilogy in a reasonable way, and it quickly evolved into something much, much more. In this story you'll find many things: Love; Action; Adventure; Comedy; Government conspiracies; Betrayal; Pain; Tragedy; Sorrow; Loss; Family; Friendship. It's all there, though it might take it's sweet time doing so as it makes its way through all three movies and the years set between them.

All in all, this a story about a young woman named Catherine whose life is dramatically changed by a chance-- or perhaps destined-- encounter with an alien race of transforming robots, their alien artifact which changes her life forever, and the struggle she faces finding her place in the world while protecting the ones she loves from both the Decepticons and her own kind. And underneath it all is the story of unexpected love and the testing of a friendship that hopes to last for a life time.

A word of warning: There is foul language here and there throughout the story and becomes more common in the later chapters, so be advised the "f-word" does drop quite a few times. Because it is not too prominent in the story, it will remain PG-13, seeing as many PG-13 movies have had the f-bomb before. Just be advised if you don't have a penchant for foul language.

All rights to Transformers belongs to Hasbro, although I would die to be able to own it all (exept Kiss Players. Just no, Japan. Just... No.)

The only thing belonging to me is my dear OC Catherine, any plot changes in the story that the movies don't follow, and all the science behind a lot of things that aren't necessarily CANON to Transformers, but I tried to adapt it so that it fit the series' logic/science better.

Feel free to leave comments of constructive criticism or questions about anything-- I always appreciate such things, and I'll be happy\ to reply to any that are left.

Oh, and each of the titles are the names of songs. I added music videos responding to them, so it's not hard to guess the bands/artists~ It should be noted that sometimes the SONGS don't necessarily match the chapter-- in fact, more often than not they DON'T-- but the titles generally do. Regardless, you all get to enjoy music while you read!

And so, without further-a-do, These Paths We Tread!


	2. It Started With a Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: All right to Transformers belongs to Hasbro, although I would die to be able to own it all (except Kiss Players. Just no, Japan. Just... No.) This also includes the direct quotes and scenes I take from the movie. Yes, I do go second-by-second with the scenes to ensure I have quote and actions correct because this fanfic does follow the movies. Some things are altered, but all credit to the movies goes to, as I said, Hasbro, Bay, and all those who lead to the creation of the movies and Transformers in general.
> 
> The only thing belonging to me is my dear OC Catherine, any plot changes in the story that the movies don't follow, and all the science behind a lot of things that aren't necessarily CANON to Transformers, but I tried to adapt it so that it fit the series' logic/science better.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments of constructive criticism or questions about anything- I always appreciate such things, and I'll be happy\ to reply to any that are left. :)
> 
> Oh, and each of the titles are the names of Songs. It should be noted sometimes the SONGS don't necessarily match the chapter- in fact, more after that not that DON'T- but the titles generally do.

\---------------------------------------------------

For as long as she could remember, Catherine had been best friends with the awkward boy she’d come to know as Sam Witwicky. There were often jokes between their parents how they’d been friends since the womb, although their parents hadn’t known each other until they’d realized they had kids of the same age only living a few houses from each other. Whatever the case, from the first day they’d met there was no stopping the inevitable sleepovers, parties, rough-housing, tea parties, facing the monster in the closet or under the bed, and the challenges all young kids would face. The tween and teenager years were no different except their duo had become a trio with the inclusion of the blonde-haired Miles— or “hippie” as she liked to call him with all the love of a friend, of course. Still, she and Sam had always been best friends; just the two of them against the world, and hippie-boy to provide backup and distractions.

And now they were older teens in high school, and while some things had change—not that Sam had noticed being the oblivious boy he was—both, or at least Sam, could be safe in knowing that she would still wait for him at the school exit with Miles, especially if that day was the last day of school.

“Do you see him yet?” the blonde-haired boy asked, standing high up on his toes to peer over the throng of student trying to ram their way out as fast as possible, the call of summer strong and enticing to their wild, hormonally controlled teenage nature.

Catherine pushed a red string of hair behind her ear, “No. He’s probably just too busy either crying or pelvic thrusting in the classroom to make it out.”

Miles snickered. She grinned back, shifting out of the way of an impatient student who tried to bowl her over in his dash for freedom. Sam was taking longer than she would have thought, and it worried her. All he’d talked about this week, let alone past month, was about getting his car and how all he needed was an A in all his classes to do so. Unfortunately, not only was his father annoyingly strict and stubborn, the boy wasn’t the smartest. He wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t an all A student, either. Miles didn’t help at all, but that was where Catherine came in. She was smart and responsible enough to actually study, so she ended up helping him out as best she could. And, as of today, he was assured his car if he could just get an A on his major assignment for History. She’d helped him get all the research on his great-great grandpa and even helped him practice giving his project. Now it was up to him to present it.

Him. Socially awkward Sam.

Shit. I really hope he sucked up, she frowned. She would hate to see him come moping down the hall rather than leaping. She had to admit she was excited about him getting a car, too. It was a hot topic for their teen years, and both were eager to finally get one. Hers she knew wouldn’t come until graduation, but with Sam getting his possibly today they could hitch rides to everywhere, and, well, it would be nice to ride with him. 

“You’ve got the look again.”

Catherine blinked and turned a raised brow at the blonde boy. He smirked, and she scowled as her cheeks warmed.

“Shut-up!” she hissed, and his smirk only widened. When she looked away, though—ears turning red and warm—his smirk fell with a sigh.

“You gotta tell him soon, amigo,” he spoke, and she turned redder. “’Cause you and I both know he doesn’t see it. Which is sad since I did, like, a year ago.”

“Just shut-up, Miles! I’m gunna tell him soon! I just need the right timing!” she huffed.

His smirk returned with a hint of mischief, “Like at the lake party tomorrow?”

"Maybe,” she mumbled almost too softly for him to hear, and then turned a hard glare on him. “And don’t you dare say anything!”

“My lips are sealed!” he replied quickly, throwing up his arms in surrender. “I doubt he’d get it if I told him anyways. Weird how I’m not the smartest in school, but a pro when it comes to love?”

“A pro that’s single and rejected by every girl you attempt to hit on, which has been, what, none?”

“That hurts you know. And that’s just play stuff. Too many hoes here for the real deal. Besides, bros before hoes remember?”

“Aren’t I a contradiction to your little saying?”

He smirked, “You’re a bro for me.”

Hopefully not for Sam, though, she thought, although grinned back at the blonde haired boy.

A part of her was very—no, deathly, afraid that would be the case with Samuel Witwicky. She had been dreading the thought for two years now, ever since she had fallen in love with the oblivious idiot. She couldn’t really explain why she had; he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous and there were better looking guys at school, although she did find him pleasing to look at; he certainly wasn’t the smartest, but there was something to that naivety and his fascination with nerdy things cute. Yet, she did know that she was happy with him, and he could always make her feel that way when she needed it. He had her back, and she had his, and he was, frankly, all she really knew in the stark outside world of reality. Miles was a good friend, really he was, but it wasn’t the same with Sam. He was a part of her, and she hoped he felt the same. She didn’t know if she could stand being his "Best-Friend-For-Life".

She sighed, and thankfully Miles was scoping for the young man and didn’t notice. She considered herself lucky the blonde hadn’t told once he’d found out. She wasn’t even sure how he had; only that, after Sam had left for class the blonde boy turned to her with the most shocked face she’d ever seen and told her she liked him. One awkward conversation and a chorus of threats to pummel the ever-living-shit out of him if he told, Miles had promised to keep his word. He had kept that promise, too, and she appreciated it more than he could and would ever know. He’d even tried to “help” out once, but it hadn’t done much except lead to a mess of a blended something, Sam’s mom going into hysterics, and something else she couldn’t accurately recall due to blurred memories of the incident.

Now the rest remained with her, and with Sam making her dreams come true by realizing he felt more than just platonic feelings for her, and also that his crush on Mikaela Banes was just an attraction to a teenager with a body that didn’t seem possible at her age.

Ah, yes. Mikaela. The Bane of my existence. She smiled at her pun, but then frowned again as she wondered why Sam had to fixate himself on a girl who didn’t even know he existed. It was infuriating! Especially when said girl was the top of the social hierarchy, undoubtedly preppy, and the epitome of the “dream girl” with her perfect make-up, revealing-but-somehow-school-appropriate clothes, and 0-size waist. Obviously, Catherine’s make-up free features, her boyish clothing, and more-muscular-than-it-should-be body was no competition.

“I think I see him,” Miles murmured beside her, and she glance over the river of students that had begun to turn into a trickle as the time limit for the buses came closer to its deadline. Sure enough, bobbing excitedly through the stream was the familiar dark, curly-haired top of their friend. Even before he finally spotted them and shouted his success, they knew his car was in the bag. He didn’t get that eccentric for just anything.

“IdiditIdidiitIdidiit!” he all but screamed at them as he waved the paper in their faces. It was only through Catherine’s quick intervention that the paper was taken from him and the A- on it was clearly visible. “A minus! Guess who just got a new car?”

She smiled, “I think you did, and you’re welcome by the way.”

“And I promise to pay you back with a free drive anytime you want,” he laughed back.

“’A’ free drive? Yeah, I’d say I’m entitled to unlimited. Better yet, I should have unlimited access to drive it wherever I want. After all, who was it that helped you pass all your classes so you could even get the car, hmmm?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay. You can have unlimited rides, but it’s my car, so I’m the one drivin’!” he huffed back and held out his hand for the paper.

“Fair enough,” she smiled devilishly as she handed it back.

“So what’re you hopin’ for? You’re dad’s not exactly a charity when it comes to the green stuff,” Miles mused, causing Sam to grimace slightly.

“Mom talked to him, so hopefully that means something,” he shrugged, and then glanced out the door searching for his father.

“’Hopefully’ being the keyword,” Catherine added.

"Yeah, and uh, gotta go now—I can see my Dad. I’ll catch you guys later!” he shouted, taking off at a run through the door, skillfully dodging the last remnants of people coming through. Catherine sighed as she watched him go, part of her hoping he got an awesome car and the other hoping she could go through with things tomorrow. She couldn’t deny Sam’s obliviousness was not the only problem with her life of romance—she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, and she hated it. Loathed it. She wished she could just be rid of it, but it had a tight hold and sucked her confidence dry. But she had been planning her confession at the Lake party for a while now—she couldn't and wouldn't let the little parasitic fear stop her.

Miles shifted his backpack on his shoulder and stepped around so that he was walking backwards to the door, “Weeeeell, seeing as you’re just going to daydream about sucking Sam’s face, I’m headin’ home, too. There’s a seat on the couch missing me and cartoons not being watched, and I think a cold pizza in the fridge with my name on it, too.”

She blinked, pulled back to reality, and grinned, “I assume the vacancy will be filled all this summer, yeah?”

“Damn straight. Adios, amigo!”

“So long, hippie,” she saluted back and the blonde-haired boy took off at a light jog to his bike. She waited, watching him for a moment, and then walked out, too. She paused at the bottom of the steps to look where Sam had gone, her heart fluttering at the thought of him, and smiled softly. Shifting the weight of her own backpack, she set her gaze forward, and started the short trek home.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

-O-

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Short” was really just that. The walk was only twenty minutes at most, and that wasn’t so bad even with the hot Tranquility sun. Being used to it helped, but jeans didn’t, so she did have a thin layer of sweat when she finally walked up the wooden porch steps of her home, stuck the key in the equally wooden door, and entered into the fray of wagging tails and eager whines. Such was the price she paid for having three Siberian Huskies at home whom had come to realize she was their way to relieve their bladders in the afternoon and their source of everything until dinner time.

“Alright, come on guys, let’s go before you explode,” she chuckled, rubbing them all playfully as she tossed her backpack onto the nearby leather couch. A quick muddled with furry, black-and-white obstacles-walk later, she had the three running about their yard searching for acceptable spots. She took the free time before they came bounding back to glance to her right, looking for the familiar bird-dog house—the “penthouse”, she corrected herself— that Sam’s Mom had recently made for, well, their dog. She once thought her three furry babies were spoiled with their treats, walks, toys, and whatever else her mom coddled them with, but Mrs. Witwicky had taken it to an all new high—a very disturbing all new-high.

Mojo wasn’t in it, she noticed, and that was probably a good thing. Little guy managed to get hurt when Mrs. Witwicky wasn’t watching the laundry basket in which Mojo was sleeping. That had been an interesting day to say the least, but she didn’t dwell on it, and instead looked for Sam’s mom. By the lack of her loud voice and lack of lights on downstairs, she wasn’t there, which was a bit of a disappointment. Despite the woman’s overly eccentric and potentially-crazy personality, she was wonderful to talk to. Her husband was equally so, but he could be a little too stubborn in his ideals for her sometimes. Thankfully Sam had taken after his mother more than his father.

A cold, wet nose in her hand distracted her and she found her youngest husky staring up at her with pleading, blue eyes. She cooed affectionately and kissed his forehead, to which he happily wagged his tail at.

“Ooooh, you’re so adorable, Bandit! Way cooler than Mojo,” she grinned and then glanced at the other two, whom had ignored her on their way in. “Now go see if that old fart Dasher will play with ya, ‘cause you and I both know Sophie won’t.”

She let him go off then, and while he did attempt to play, it only gave him an annoyed growl from the older female husky companion and a door pushed into his face by the other\\. She could only laugh at his drooping, disappointed tail, and then called him over to sit with her on the couch and watch T.V. He gladly accepted, although Sophie would have none of it as she planted herself firmly at Catherine’s feet when barking did nothing to deter Bandit from his comfortable spot. Her laptop soon joined them, and their motley group stayed there undeterred for a good, long while until her cellphone rang.

“Mom? What’s up?” she asked at once. “You and Dad staying late again?”

“Work will be late, but we plan to go out tonight, too. It’s our anniversary, after all. Forgot to tell you, and, well, I don’t see you before you leave, so you know. There are leftovers in the fridge, but we left some cash so feel free to order pizza.”

“Oh yeah. I think Dad talked about it like a week ago. Anyways, you guys have fun. I’ll keep the house safe and the dogs under control,” she replied back, forcing the joyful tone in her voice. Her mother, as always, fell for it, said that they would, and then the phone call ended. With a sigh, Catherine tossed it over Bandit and slumped down some. Another night with the house to herself. It was almost a routine, and now with summer rolling in the house would be hers all day. Not that she really minded. She did love getting to do whatever the hell she wanted—within limits, of course—but the dogs weren’t the best companions. She could go over to Sam’s, too, but she felt bad going over every single day. It made her feel like a mooch, so she tried to refrain, although Mrs. Witwicky has assured her their home was hers too.

“Bandito, why does Sam get to have such awesome parents who actually do funny things with him?” she asked the dog, whom looked up at her from her lap, but said nothing. “And of course you love mine because they spoil you with treats. Granted, you’d love anybody who feeds you and walks you and lets out to poop. Traitors in the making.”

The silence condemned the guilty, but he was too damn cute for her to hold a grudge, so she ended up ruffling his fur affectionately. Her parents, however, were still heavy on her mind. It wasn’t that they were bad parents. They didn’t abuse her or anything like that or deprive her of anything. Rather, they were almost perfect in regards to parenting. They provided with her ample money, they bought most things she wanted, both had jobs bringing in good money; they had three dogs, a good education for her, and a good home. Hers was literally the American Dream, but for her it was more like a nightmare. The colorful walls around her were a cage, bought and fortified by parents whom were perfect in their familial jobs, but failed miserably as people.

It made her all the more grateful for Sam. He had been her one shining light for the past ten years when the house’s oppressive nature became evident. She did have other, lesser friends she talked to once in a while as well as her wrestling team, but she couldn’t tell them how she felt or how she wasn’t allowed to be who she was. She could tell Sam, though, and he had listened and comforted her and let her sleep over countless time. It was what she needed, and that need had made her release how happy she was with him and that she wanted to be with him for as long as possible. The idea had once made her hesitant in proclaiming she loved him, but she knew that need had now become the flustering emotion.

Just gotta wait until tomorrow until the party and then I can tell him she breathed, attempting to ease the flush already forming on her cheeks. She smiled briefly at a sudden thought, I wonder if he’d take me for a ride—if he reciprocated, of course. If.

The smile lessened as the thought transformed, and she sent a quick text to the young man, wondering if he was back yet. Not even a minute later, his reply came and she ushered Bandit off the couch. She ordered them to be good and not chew anything up before nearly running out the door and down the street. Four houses later, and she was in front of the quaint home of Sam Witwicky. It was as it should be with its tanned walls, dark-brown shingled roof, wooden porch, homey plants, and comphy chairs. Except, that is, for the golden-yellow and black-striped metal beast sitting all slick in the drive way.

She knew just from the frame style it was a Camaro—she’d taken a keen interest in vehicles once the prospect of her own had come up earlier in the year—though what year she didn’t know besides that it was definitely before she was born. It looked its age, too; it was dirty, chipped, and all around rugged, but, for some reason, that gave it a charm. One that made her stare with awe at its old-school air. She found the insides weren’t so bad either, with the old, leather seats that were only slightly torn. She couldn’t help but snicker at the décor—“Beeyotch” and the disco ball just fit so well. All in all, she was impressed, and would not mind cruising in such a sweet piece. Granted, she would go for something more modern when she chose, but it was nice. She couldn’t help but wonder how cheap it was, though, considering Sam’s Dad had bought it.

The backdoor opened and she grinned as the dark-haired boy came into view, “I wouldn’t have taken you for the old school type.”

He shrugged, “It’s not the driver who chooses the car; it’s the car that chooses the driver.”

“You get that from a fortune cookie?” she inquired with a raised brow.

“From the car dealer, actually. He was, um, a little crazy,” he replied and then scratched his head. “He might’ve been right though. Call it crazy, but when the guy put the price too high for my Dad the car’s alarm suddenly went off and busted all the other cars. It was like it didn’t want me to go.”

“Huh. That is pretty weird, but it was probably just a weird coincidence,” she rumbled back, but now regarded the car meticulously. Having finally said something, the car did have a kind of “vibe” to it. Underneath its exterior, she suddenly had the notion there was something more to it. But what? Being a government vehicle like Knight Rider would have been too much and too good to be true, and ghosts were out of the question for her. She might have said “alien” if the car were a person rather than a car, but seeing as it was, in fact, a vehicle, she shut that option out.

“It’s probably just your imagination. You should just be happy you got this baby,” she grinned, turning around to lean on the hood with her arms folded across her chest. Sam grunted as he joined her, arms set back to support his weight.

“He almost didn’t,” he grumbled.

“Ronald Witwicky—stingiest Dad in the world,” she laughed, and then bumped him when his face soured more. “Aww, c’mon. Just messing with ya. I bet taking a girl for a ride would make you feel better.”

He cast her a look as he smirked, “And you qualify?” 

“Hey!” she balked, slapping his arm. “I happen to have boobs and a vagina, thank-you very much!”

“Yeeeah, but what girl squats over forty-five on each side?”

“A wrestler one, you jerk! And don’t be pullin’ that just ‘cause you can’t bench over ten pounds!”

“I can bench twenty-five!” he huffed and she snorted.

“Congratulations. You’ll have bigger guns in no time,” she growled back. They paused for a moment, both glaring, before suddenly bursting out into laughter.

It had been a while since they had a silly arguments and fight like that. They’d had them for as long as they knew each other, and each ended the same way. Laughs and a good time. This was one of the main things she loved about him—he could always make her laugh no matter what. She could only hope it was the same for him, and she hoped to find out soon enough.

“So,” she spoke between laughs. “Do I qualify as a girl or not?”

He hummed with a grin, “Yeah, okay. But just for today. And where shall I be driving the lucky girl tonight?”

“I do believe Burger King sounds like a perfect idea. I feel a craving for French fries and burgers,” she purred back.

“Excellent choice. Now, wait one second while I get the keys and then prepare for a smooth ride,” he chuckled, hopping off the hood and returning back indoors. Catherine chuckled; wondering how “smooth” it would actually be since he’d barely passed his driving test after two previous attempts. She chuckled aloud as she glanced inside the car.

“Make sure he doesn’t crash, alright? I don’t want the first day of summer to end bad,” she spoke, and, for just a moment, she thought she felt the car vibrate. She blinked once, then twice, and stared hard at the car, but the vibration—if she had felt it—was gone. Was it just her imagination or something else?

Whatever it was, she forgot it when Sam appeared once more and they hopped in to begin their ride to Burger King.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

-O-

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Jesus, Sam! How in God’s name did you get a license?!” Catherine shrieked as the young man in question pulled yet another way-too-fast sharp turn around the corner and she held onto the side of her seat for dear life. Sam, on the other hand, looked hurt as the car went straight and even managed to give her his sad, kicked-puppy look. She would have none of it and glared back with her that-doesn’t-work-on-me-you-psychopath look. She knew she was in the right, too, especially after enduring his insane peel out of the fast food restaurant, sudden brake when he realized he would not make it through the yellow light at the intersection, and the god-forsaken sharp turns she was not prepared for. And to think they had been having so much fun at Burger King!

“Calm down, Catherine. We’re back on our street anyways,” he replied finally, scoffing her glare.

“That’s still enough time for you to crash,” she murmured and let her head fall back against the seat’s head rest. “Mind if I chill at your place for a while still?”

“Parents gunna be home late?”

“Yeah, and the dogs aren’t the best company.”

“Sure thing. Mom and Dad won’t mind, and it’s been a while since we played Halo or Gears,” he hummed, and she grinned with him at the thought.

“Yeah, I’m getting a little rusty, too.”

“And I’ve been polishing mine,” he grinned confidently, but then sobered as he pulled into the driveway. “What’s with your parents, though? They’ve been gone late just about every night, right?”

“For the most part, yeah, but that’s not so bad to be honest,” she replied, unbuckling and stepping out of the car.

“Free of the ‘oppression’ right?” he inquired, a hint of amusement at the word, as he, too, stepped out.

She frowned, which made him look away, “It’s not the same being able to be yourself around others than when you’re alone. And I have a feeling they’d know when I cursed in the house or something.”

“Ouch. So they don’t like you cursing and the fact you don’t act girly? Man, they really don’t seem that bad to be honest,” he replied, coming up beside her to walk inside.

“Well, they don’t really talk with you or your parents, so you don’t get much of the home life, and they always put on a good show when in public. Private life is a hell’uva lot different than public,” she snorted with contempt.

Sam frowned sympathetically while he opened the door and let her in. The living room was free of any parents, although the T.V. and lights were on. They could hear sounds from the kitchen, however, and by the remnants of dinner still on the dining table Mr. And Mrs. Witwicky were probably doing the dishes. Sam gestured for Catherine to wait, and she did while he moseyed over into the kitchen. The sounds of a pleased mother and bemused father could be heard, and she grinned as she imagined his mom was cuddling him. The sounds ebbed as Sam began to speak, and then a chorus of happy agreement came up, letting her know she was welcomed as always. Not a moment later, Sam returned with a plate of chocolate sweets made especially by his mother.

“Brownies? Oh, how I love your mother,” she purred, grabbing one and taking a bit.

“She still wants to know how you make those cookies of yours.”

“But she won’t, muwahahaha. Anyways, let’s hurry upstairs and get to gamin’. I wanna have as much fun as possible before heading back to Alcatraz.”

“Somebody’s feeling a little harsh tonight,” he mused between brownie bites while scaling the first steps up the stairs, and she grunted. “Good think you’ve only got one year ‘till you’re out, yeah?”

“Damn straight. No more disappointed parents and high school clichés and all the woes of being a teenager!” she cried, throwing her arms up.

“They’re not that bad. I happen to find the teenaged life enjoyable,” Sam replied as they rounded the balcony corner and came to his room. Years ago he might have grimaced and given her warning about his room being a mess or to not look in certain places for fear of her finding something embarrassing, but she had long since assured him the state of his room hardly influenced her opinion of him. Of course, there were limits, and Sam was a master of skirting around them. She couldn’t imagine having a room where the floor was made from randomly placed piles of dirty clothes, magazines, and whatever else he was in the mood for, and in comparison, her room was like a quarantine bubble.

“Alright, just let me find the controllers… and the console and we can get going,” he said, setting the brownies down and shuffling through a pile of clothes and paper. Catherine took her spot on his bed, lying back with a sigh. His bed was as soft as always and she couldn’t help but curl up in it. So many good times on it playing video games or just talking. Sometimes even Miles was there, but not so much later on when Mrs. Witwicky banned him for his “artistic” activity one time. At least it had been fun before the woman had gone ballistic.

“Comfy, are we?” Sam laughed as he tossed her a controller.

She purred, “Why, yes, I am. Why not start the summer out lounging on a comfortable bed?”

“Well, for one, it’s where I sleep so you can’t stay there forever,” he grinned back, taking his own seat beside her. “And, two, wouldn’t it be better to start out with going to a Lake Party?”

“Hmmm, that does sound much better; especially if it involves a ride in a certain dirty, yellow and black-striped Camaro.”

“I think that can be arranged. I do still owe you after all, so why not save you from the terrors of the teenage life?”

She smiled at his jest and gave him a playful jab, “I’m guessing that means you’ll be saving Miles, too, so I call shotgun!”

“That’s hardly fair when he’s not here,” he mused.

“I called it and it’s what he gets for not living down the street.”

He laughed and the conversation ebbed into playful banter and curses as their game began. It lasted long through the night, the two of them wrapped in their game and occasional silly fighting to try and thwart the other’s attempts to win the match or kill an enemy. The brownies were left untouched, their sweetness forgotten in their happiness, as was the time, which flew too fast for them. It wasn’t long before Catherine’s phone buzzed to let her know her parents were heading home and that it was nearing midnight. She really wished she was younger then—she would have been allowed to sleep over, but now she was older and it wasn’t “appropriate”.

So it was with heavy heart that she reluctantly told Sam she had to go, ending their fun gaming session. He understood as always, and figured he wanted to see if anyone had bought his glasses, anyways, and also that he’d see her tomorrow around two for the Lake Party. She happily agreed and took off, though paused to give a quick bye to his mother whom was in the living room watching light-night soap operas with Mojo. A thought trailed after her though, lingering on what Sam had mentioned.

It stuck with her all the way through the small talk with her parents about their work, evening, and what her plans for tomorrow were. They were cheerful for her going to the party, figuring it was about time she hung out with someone other than Sam and Miles, and told her they’d be out shopping for some new furniture most of the day, so she should just call to let them know when she’d be back. That done, she secluded herself to her room with her belongings and had the laptop up and surfing the web to eBay. Finding Sam’s page was easy enough—she had spent a long time giggling over his username—as was finding the odd glasses of his Great-Great Grandfather. It took even less time to create a fake username and address to pay for the item.

“Just a little something from me,” she whispered aloud once it was done, her mind plotting to pick them up secretly and revealing them when he least expected it. She knew he would appreciate it, and, well, she’d need as much appreciation from him if she hoped for her dream—for him to utter three simply complicated words—to come true. So it was with a hopeful grin that she shut the laptop off and, readied for bed as her dreams already started to take hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand that is chapter one! Nothing too exciting right now except maybe Sam's driving skills. That was a little "fun" on my part, seeing as Sam's not exactly normal, so I'd expect he might be a little awkward driving a car, too. Don't worry, though, he'll get better... as in, Bumblebee will be doing the driving from now on, ha ha.
> 
> So yeah, not much excitement, but it is the first paragraph, so I gotta introduce the OC and her place in the world. If you noticed, the story is essentially third person limited, seeing as I know any fan will know the movie and what happened, so there's no need to go into details over that. It'll branch out at some parts, I know, but for now, just Catherine.
> 
> Can't really think of much else to talk on, so I guess that's all~ Prepare for a Lake Party tomorrow and how Catherine's "confession" turns out!  
> P.S. If anyone guessed the chapter is a lyric line from a song- kudos to you! Try and guess it if you can! And don't cheat! Ha ha~


	3. Heartbreak Warfare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for teenage drama yay! :D

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The next morning was bright and sunny, but not too hot according to the news. Breakfast was pancakes and sausages made by her Mom, whom was unusually cheerful along with her father. The dogs were all sweet and playful and didn’t make a fuss on the walk, which was also unusual as Bandit always went ballistic in his attempt to play with the other dogs. The shower felt great, her bathing suit and clothes to go over felt wonderful and fit perfectly, and the seven hours until two o’clock seemed to pass by in seven seconds. All in all, Catherine had a feeling today was going to be a good day. Which a very, very good thing.

“Alright, I’m off! I’ll probably be back late unless, well, otherwise!” she called out from the front door, slinging her small, travel-size camouflage bag over her shoulders.

“Have fun!” was the cry from both her parents, and then she gone. She didn’t bother walking, and instead ran in her low-top shoes down the sidewalk to Sam’s driveway. Not even out of breath, she slowed into the backyard where she found Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky working in their garden. She had to give the husband’s stubbornness credit—it had produced a pretty damn good-looking piece of work. Hell, they even had a fountain and path to go with it.

“Catherine!” his mother cried happily, waving. “Oh just look at you! Wearing actual girl shorts and a slim shirt! Don’t tell me you don’t have bathing suit! I’ll let you borrow one if you don’t though! I have—“

The redhead raised up her hands for her to stop, “Thank-you, Mrs. Witwicky, but I have my suit on underneath it all. And it’s an under-armor shirt by the way, and yes, these are girl soccer shorts.”

“Well, good for you for showing some legs! Those boys will just be all over you!” she cooed, and Catherine was stuck between a mixture of embarrassment and groaning. She could only thank God that Mrs. Witwicky hadn’t found out she was in love with Sam. She didn’t dare imagine the disasters that would have happened for the past two years if she had. She wasn’t sure if she could have handled it, considering how rash the woman was already with never thinking before she spoke. With a sigh, she started to walk towards them until a loud shout—more like roar—erupted from Mr. Witwicky.

“NOT THE GRASS!” he howled, and Catherine nearly tripped from surprise as the man jabbed his finger at the path. “USE THE PATH! The grass is brand new!”

“Oh! Sorry!” she cried back, making extra effort to not step on the grass as she walked down to the tiled path. “My bad, Mr. Witwicky. It looks amazing by the way. Lovin’ the path.”

“Yeah, I bet,” he grumbled, digging away at the weeds in the garden. “Still wanted to trample all over my hard work, though.”

“I promise not to do it again!” she replied back and then sighed before looking to Mrs. Witwicky for help.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, dear,” she spoke, waving the grumpy man off. “He’ll forget about it, anyways. So what do you think of Sammy’s new car? I know you two took it for a ride yesterday.”

“It’s a smooth ride so long as Sam isn’t driving like a maniac,” Catherine mused sourly. “Could use a bit of tune-up, though, especially since it’s kind of a pollution monster in the back.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. Ron’s too cheap to get a more environment-friendly car, though!” Mrs. Witwicky shouted just loud enough so her husband could hear. The man merely grunted and continued his work, making his wife sigh and shake her head. “That’s men for you. So how long will you be gone and will Miles be coming, too?”

“Party doesn’t really have an end, but I figure I’d bring him home by midnight, and yes, Miles is coming. He’s our sidekick n’ all.”

“Curfew’s at eleven!” Mr. Witwicky, shouted, but his wife scoffed at him.

“Midnight’s fine. And do keep Miles from getting Sam into trouble. Granted, it’s good that you found another friend for your little group, but he can be such a bad influence sometimes! Not like you, of course, and thank God for that!”

She laughed along with the woman, but paused as she remembered something, “Oh, Mrs. Witwicky—do you know where Sam keeps his great-great grandpa’s glasses?”

“Those old things? I think they’re in the kitchen somewhere,” the older woman replied, gesturing towards the house. “I think Sammy’s been trying to sell them.”

“Yeah, I know. I bought them,” Catherine grinned. “I wanted to surprise him n’ all, so mind if I grab ‘em and you maybe say you sent them to the payer for him?”

A bright smile appeared on Mrs. Witwicky’s face, “Oooh, of course! That’s so adorable! Sammy’s going to love it! Hurry and go get them before he comes down!”

“Got it!” Catherine saluted and scampered inside, diving straight through the kitchen doors. Sure enough, the glasses were just waiting for her on the counter, lying on top of Sam’s backpack, which he was delaying in bringing up to his room as always. She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips as she picked them up and tried them on. Having perfect vision by a doctor’s standards, the glasses made the world a very blurred place, although she was able to focus on the strange markings in the glass. Her smile turned to a puzzled frown and she took them off to get a better look.

Sam had told her all about the stories of his ancestor, Archibald Witwicky, going crazy, and she learned even more for his project. They were all about finding a “great something” underneath the ice and his encounter with said discovery had driven him insane and blind, too. And it had also left the strange marks on the glasses; whatever they meant. They weren’t any written language she could place—not even something from Asia, which was what it most closely resembled in her opinion. And she could never figure out what the “great something” might have been. There were no records of his journey after the event, except papers with writings similar to the ones on his glasses , which he had made in his final, insane years. By all means, it was as crazy as Sam’s ancestor had been. Yet, a part of her always suspected—and hoped—it was something more.

But for now, she set those daydreams aside and put the glasses into her camouflage bag, wrapping it in the extra shirt she’d brought just in case. Just in time, too, as she could hear the sound of shoes thumping down the stairs, and by the quick curse she knew Sam had nearly tripped while doing so. Soon enough a familiar face appeared in the doorway and, upon seeing her, the dark-brown eyes widened.

“Oh, you’re here. You’re, uh, punctual. As always. That’s weird, y’know, by the way,” he mused, straightening up, acting all-cool-like. She wasn’t fooled, but she let it slide because she found his attire rather attractive. She’d always liked how plaid, button-up shirts looked, and he had a thing going with the black undershirt and jeans. It made her face feel warm, and she hoped to God her freckles hid it.

“Punctuality is looked well upon in society, O’ lazy one,” she mused back, but he merely rolled his eyes.

“Nice get-up by the way. You plan on wrestling people at the party?” he asked, teasing her with a grin. It was too bad she only felt disappointed. She had hoped he might have noticed she actually did have a female body, albeit a bigger built, muscular one. Apparently, she had hoped for too much. She hid her dismay well, though, and forced a smile.

“If it’s boring I might. Gotta keep things exciting, don’t I?”

“Well, since somebody will call the cops because of it, yeah. Anyways, we gotta go pick up Miles, so you got everything with you?”

She raised a brow, “Who’s the one that remembered to bring your schoolwork for you for how many years now? Not to mention your house key, your backpack once, and a veeeeery long list of other things.”

“You could have just said yes,” he frowned, and she grinned.

“Where would be the fun in that?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was almost three-fourth the way down to the horizon line by the time the yellow, black-striped Camaro rolled down the paved street and parked at the curb by the tree. Barely thirty yards from them teens were already romping about or relaxing on towels, and further past them the lake was bustling with activity; boys dunking other boys or splashing girls or flirting shamelessly with each other. Undoubtedly the hormones were raging on the golden-painted landscape in the hot Nevada sun, and the party members loved it. There was plenty of eye candy to go around, and already the two boys in the Camaro were growing excited. Their one female companion, on the other hand, was not so inclined to let her hormones control her, although some of the shirtless boys running about did make hers spike a little. She quickly remedied that by gluing her eyes to the driver. Unfortunately, his eyes were glued elsewhere.

“Oh my God. Oh my God, dude. Mikeala’s here,” Sam breathed, eyes widening. Catherine flinched only slightly and Mile's managed to keep his glance at her unnoticed when Sam looked at them, “Just don’t do anything weird, alright?”

“You do realize that not only are all the guys at our school crushing on her, she’s also hooked with Trent, right? As in, he-will-kill-you, Trent?” the redhead mused, just barely holding back her bitterness as she glared ever-so-slightly at the dark-haired beauty. 

“Yeah, well, things are a little different. I’ve got a car so the attraction factor’s gone up, y’know, about fifty points,” he retorted, checking himself quickly in the mirror.

“Dude, c’mon. We came to have fun, not watch you get burned. Let’s just go chill and party like we planned to,” Miles called from the back.

“We are going to… I’m just going to see if we can, y’know, get a fourth person.”

“If that’s all you want, I see one of my teammates we can invite right over there,” Catherine stated, jabbing a finger at a young man lounging near the lake.

Sam gave her a look, “C’mon, Catherine. You know what I meant.”

He didn’t give her time to reply as he got out abruptly. She said nothing, her lips creased into a firm frown as she got out and helped Miles do the same. Their dark-haired friend glanced between them and Mikeala briefly, wanting to know if he looked okay. The redhead refused to look at him, pretending instead to be looking for a spot while she accompanied Miles over to his side. Miles thankfully filled in the silence, by confirming Sam did, in fact, look alright for approaching the babe that was Mikeala. He cast Catherine a pity smile, but it did nothing to change her features.

They came over at a quick, but casual pace, and as they got closer to Mikeala and her group, which included Trent, Catherine became more in tune with the situation. She knew Trent had a thing for playing the cliché bully in some psychotic need for attention that he thought could be satisfied by acting like a typical Hollywood teenager. And since Sam just happened to be in _Trent's_ grade, was crushing on _Tremt's_ girlfriend, and was much weaker both physically and socially then _Trent_ , that made him a potential target. There was no way in hell—even if he was being a complete and utter retarded, inconsiderate, and idiotic asshole—she was going to let the jerk hurt Sam. 

Her fingers tightened to a fist when one of the jock's friends noticed they were coming and gave the young football player a heads up. He smirked at the sight of Sam, and it only widened when Mikeala came up from behind to embrace him in a hug.

“Hey, Bro!” he called, directly at Sam. “Look at that car. It’s nice. “

Wisely, Sam didn’t reply as they continued forward. Miles tossed his jacket aside and sauntered over to the tree while Catherine remained close, eyeing Trent and his buddies, watching their body language. So far it was just the usual gorilla-chest-puff fight.

The football player sauntered over, “So what’re you guys doing here?”

“We’re here to climb this tree,” Sam said after a pause, his eyes wide. He was already losing the battle.

“And have a good time. It’s a party after all,” Catherine added, and Trent regarded her with a brief look over and then, no doubt assuming she was no trouble being a girl, turned back to Sam.

“I… I can see that. It looks fun,” he replied, gesturing at the tree, and without any attempt to hide his insincerity. “So, I, uh, I thought I recognized you. You tried out for the football team last year, right?”

Sam visibly flinched at the words, and Catherine winced with him, recalling that day. He didn’t make to the team.

“Oh! No, no, no,” he replied quickly. “That? No, that wasn’t like a real tryout. I was researching a book I was writing.”

 _Smooth_ , Catherine mused, her eye flicking over to his groupies briefly. The others were watching, grinning amongst themselves, and so was Mikeala. They met eyes for a split moment, and she could tell she was only mildly interested. Good. The less interested in Sam she was the better.

“Oh yeah? What’s it about?” Trent asked, obviously not falling for the dark-haired boy’s ruse. “Sucking at sports?”

And there it was. The classic one-up. Catherine rolled her eyes, expecting nothing less from the jerk. She looked to Sam, wondering if he could pull something out. He was both dumb and smart enough to.

And sure enough, he sniffed, “Huh. No, it’s, uh, the link between brain damage and football. No, it’s a good book. Y-Your friends will love it. Y’know, it’s got mazes in it and, y’know, little coloring areas, sections, pop-up pictures. It’s a lot of fun. ”

Catherine both cheered and sighed, already seeing the jock’s muscle tighten and his gaze harden, and she prepared to step in.

“That’s _very_ funny,” Trent rumbled strolled forward. The redhead was about to do the same when—to both her surprise and dismay—Mikeala appeared in front of him.

“Okay, hey, hey,” she stated, placing a firm hand against his chest. “Y’know what? Stop.”

Like magic, her words worked and Trent backed down while she walked around, obviously urging him to follow. His show over, the jock turned to the others and called them to go to a different party. They agreed, of course, and began to gather while Sam, Miles, and Catherine watched with dumb-struck faces. And brewing inside Catherine was also despair, as she knew the dark-haired girl had just sowed a powerful seed into Sam’s heart. The cold knife turning in her stomach made her silent as she watched her friend’s face carefully, but there was only confirmation there.

Sam didn’t notice as he looked up at Miles, “You gotta get out of the tree right now. Get—just get out of the tree. Please.”

Miles looked at him innocently, but did as told, and hopped down to grin at his friend. Sam still was not amused, and Catherine could have cared less.

“Did you see that dismount? All the chicks were watching.”

“You were making me look like an idiot! We both just looked like idiots just now,” he growled back, snatching up his friend’s jacket and tossing it to him. He noticed Catherine had yet to move. “Hey, Catherine—c’mon!”

She blinked, coming back, and, not saying a word, hurried after. Thankfully Miles’s berating took all of Sam’s attention, so she able to slip by to the passenger side of the car. She opened it for Miles, whom clambered obediently in the back, casting a worried glance in the red-head’s direction. Sam might have noticed something was wrong had he looked at her then, but, instead, he turned around to where Mikeala was walking away. Alone. Catherine followed his gaze and had to bite her lip to keep from shouting out. She knew _exactly_ what he was thinking, and she wished that he wasn’t. It didn’t help that, for some weird reason, the radio came on playing a song that all too perfectly fit his thoughts. She contemplated hitting the car, but her focus was on Sam.

“Hey, man, what’s wrong with your radio?” Miles asked, but was ignored as his friend’s mental light bulb went off.

“I’m going to drive her home tonight.”

Catherine’s gut dropped and, using a will forged over her whole life, she held back the burn in her eyes and bit her tongue to keep the words back.

Miles balked and looked with worry at Catherine, “What? She’s an evil jock concubine, man! Let her hitch-hike.”

“She lives ten miles from here, okay? This is my only chance. You gotta be understanding here.”

“Alright, well, we can put her in the back, and we’ll be fine.”

“Did you just say put her in the back?” Sam growled, turning to face his friend.

“Catherine called shot gun!” he exclaimed, although his friend was already asking him to get out of the car.

“This is a party foul! Bros before hoes!”

“Get out of the car, Miles,” was the reply, but it didn’t come from Sam. Mouth agape, the blonde looked up at Catherine, whom was gazing down the direction of the road they’d come from earlier, both hands clenched, and her face steeled. Sam looked too, but his was with relief and happiness.

“See? _Thank-you_ , Catherine! Somebody understands! Miles? You gotta get out of my car right now.”

The two stared at each other for a few moments longer before, with a scowl, Miles shuffled out of the car and slammed the door shut for Catherine while she moved off to the side. She refused to look at the car, let alone, Sam. Miles did it for her, leaning on the window to glare at him.

“This is so not cool, bro. You owe me, and _Catherine_ big time.”

“And I swear I’ll pay you back! I mean it,” he replied, grinning, and then took off after Mikeala.

“Jerk,” Miles growled under his breath, watching him catch up to the “jock concubine”. He shook his head and looked to his red-headed friend, whom had yet to move an inch. Sighing, he scratched the back of his head and moved towards her, opening his mouth to speak, but she got to it before him.

“That guy I pointed to earlier can give you a ride home. His name’s Mike. Just tell him you’re my friend and he’ll be happy to,” she spoke calmly and devoid of emotion. Her eyelids dropped ever-so-slightly, conveying a distant look and her mouth was set evenly, with no curve in either direction.

“I’m sorry, Catherine, really—“ he began, but she shook her head.

“It’s fine. Go have fun, okay? I’m going home.”

“Wait—what? But you just got here and it’s like five miles back home, and…” he replied, but trailed off as she shook her head.

She turned away, “It’s fine. And don’t worry—I’ll be okay. It was stupid to think things would work out. Thanks for helping, though.”

With that, she took off, not bothering to listen to him continue as the golden light of the sun turned dark in her eyes and the bag on her back felt like a hundred pounds.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The sky was turning shades of red and purple when she finally turned down her street. Sweat was dribbling down her brow while the rest had soaked into her under-armor and bangs. She could hardly care or nor did she really notice, though; her focus only on the street and the empty space she had forced her thoughts to become. It took much effort, but she had managed it, and almost an hour later it was still going strong as she passed by one, two, then three, and then four houses. She didn’t dare look at the Witwicky’s house for fear her focus would crumble, and surely it would have. So she kept her hazel eyes glued to the ground as she passed by the next few homes and turned onto the pebble walkway up to her house. From there it was an almost methodical practice of slipping the key in, pushing her way through the three furry bodies, trudging up the stairs and down the hall, shutting the door behind her, and sitting down on her bed where here bag was discarded to the floor.

There she sat for a second, an hour, a day, an eternity—she couldn’t be sure, but there she sat. Silence was all around her, and she could not have asked for a better companion as her focus slowly, but surely lost its grip and, bit by bit, the shield she had encompassed herself within chipped and cracked. Each breath wore away a bit more of it and soon enough the damage was too much. The memories of the day burst forth, flooding her body and mind. The ice ripped through her stomach, burning her throat and especially her eyes. Any pride for her being emotionally strong was gone. There was no holding back.

Catherine cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And cried.

The tears came like a stream that not even her hands could ebb. Her nose ran and her breath hitched in her throat so that she nearly choked with each sob. Curses came through when they could, and she eventually passed the duty of wiping the tears away from her hands to her pillow and sheets. Yet even that could not stop them. The blue sheets turned darker with each refresh of the memories, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

It hurt so much. Never had she cried so much or felt such hurt—not even when she had dislocated her shoulder once. That was nothing compared to this. Nothing could compare to the shattering of her dreams, her hopes, and her heart. She had waited for this day for so long; for the day she could finally tell Sam she loved him and to hear him say the same words, and now it was gone. Forever. She didn’t even need to know what would happen with him tonight to know it was over for her. Sam would never love her. Never. She knew it in her heart. She wasn’t good enough for him. He hadn’t even looked at her when Mikeala was around. He hadn’t even cared what she thought. All he cared about was Mikeala.

Mikeala. Mikeala. Mikeala. Fucking Mikeala. Miss perfect. Miss pristine. Miss beautiful. Miss everything-Sam-wanted-in-a-woman. Miss everything-you’re-not-and-never-will-be.

She couldn’t compete and there was nothing she could do. Yet, the comparison wasn’t what hurt the most. It was the fact that she, whom had always been by his side and always had his back and loved him, could not do what Mikeala, a girl who probably didn’t even know his name, could do. She, in all her years of being with him, could not plant any sort of affection in his heart for her. Hers was a barren soil for Sam. And she knew now that it always would be. He could not, and would not love her.

She thought perhaps maybe she could change. Maybe she could become more like how Mikeala was and maybe then he might see her as something to look at. But, in the end, she knew she couldn’t. What would she be then if she did, anyways? Certainly not herself, and she did not want him to love her for make-up or pretty clothes. She wanted him to love her as she was—as the rough, tough, independent, non-girly her. He couldn’t, though. Some terrible, cruel thing could not let him.

And that hurt.

And because she could nothing to stop it or fix it or change it, she cried.

She cried forever until her eyes were dry and heavy and couldn’t stay open anymore. And she let herself be taken by the calming lull of sleep, which was, thankfully, empty of all but the welcoming darkness. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------


	4. Rage Against the Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically not a song but a group. But when I first found the song I though that was the name soo xD eh ***Some strong language this chapter***

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Waking was difficult and tiring. Her eyes protested letting the beams of sunlight coming through her window blinds, and her forehead felt heavy and drowsy. Her nose hurt from being rubbed raw, and her throat felt congested. Her limbs didn't want to work right, either, but she still forced herself up to stare blankly at the blue walls of her room. She registered thoughts moving in and out of her mind, but emotions couldn't follow them; she was empty. There were no more tears, but her stomach was still tied in a painful, tight knot.

A door slammed downstairs and the familiar chorus of barking dogs reached her ears. She looked blankly at the digital clock on her nightstand. It was nine in the morning, meaning her parents had just gotten back from their walk. She looked to her door and realized it was partially open—her parents had come to check up on her during the night. She couldn't know how late, but she'd have to think up something to say. The notion was enough to spur some strength into her.

With a sigh she stood up at last, her body moving like a machine to the bathroom. She went through her normal morning routine, though with a droll that she'd never had before. She almost stopped halfway through dressing and contemplated just going to bed again, but something—she thought maybe pride, but she couldn't be sure—kept her going through the process. That something also made her consider her appearance and try to rid herself of the evidence of the previous night's events. When that was satisfactory, she forced a bleak smile onto her face before daring the trip downstairs.

She paused, however, when she nearly tripped over her camouflage bag. She stared at it for a few seconds before picking it up and emptying the contents onto her bed. Her eye locked onto the pair of glasses with strange markings etched into them, and so did her hands. Her fingers tightened slowly, pressing up against the glass and sides. She raised her arm to throw them at the wall, but instead of following through the motion her arm remained in the air, shaking. With another sigh moments later, she slowly lowered her arm and opened her fingers to look at the eyeware in them. She couldn't do it.

Putting the glasses down she left the room. She descended down the stairs and came into the kitchen just as her parents had finished their outdoor morning outdoor activities, making sure the plants were water and pool clean. They were cheerful as usual in the morning and it was Sunday, so they were off work. The dogs were busy either drinking from the toilet or lying on the tiles to cool down, so she was left to the attentions of her parents as she sat on the wooden highchairs of their granite counter.

"So how was the party last night?" her mother inquired as she wiped sweat from her blonde locks.

"It was fun," she managed, and then continued when her Mom gave her an expectant look, "We just kind of rolled up, lounged and talked with some other kids, played in the lake, and all the good stuff."

"We noticed you came home early—we found you asleep upstairs around eleven," her father added, his brow rising with inquiry.

"Oh. Yeah," she began, her mind whirring quickly for the words. They came easier than she thought. "I, uh, ate something and it came back to bite me in the butt. Sam was nice enough to bring me home real quick and I slept it off."

"Oh, well sorry to hear that, but at least you had fun, right?" the blonde-haired woman smiled brightly, and Catherine nodded back.

"So what's the plan for today? You going to hang out with Sam again?" her father asked.

She turned towards him, setting her cheek into her hand. The resemblance between her and her father was all too obvious. Every gene in her body except for the double x's no doubt came from him. The red hair, the puffy cheeks, the hazel eyes, and broad shoulders. She'd even gotten his tendency for a mass number of freckles. Thankfully, she hadn't gotten his laziness, which had led to his overweight condition. The same could be said for her mother, but none of them really minded with their good lifestyle, and since her father was over fifty and her mother getting close, they didn't have much obligation to loosen their waist belts.

"Not really," she hummed. "What about you guys? Did you find the furniture you wanted?"

"Still looking," he rumbled back, unwrapping the newspaper.

"But we're not going today," her mother chimed, pulling down a cereal bowl from the cupboard. "We plan to go see Spider-Man three since we forgot to when it came out."

"Hmmm.... You guys have fun. I still feel a bit bad to be honest."

Her mother pressed her hand to Catherine's forehead, her mouth in a worried frown, "You don't feel hot..."

"I just feel a little drowsy. I'll sleep it off, so you guys go have fun. Besides, I already saw it with Sam and Miles," she added with a reassuring smile.

"Okay," the blonde woman sighed and then smiled playfully. "You just want to get out of wearing make-up, don't you?"

"And you're trying to get me to wear it again, aren't you?"

"You'd be able to get a boy that way. Especially if you wore a dress or something," her Dad replied, and Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Like always—not gunna happen."

"Oh, you always have to be so difficult! Alright then. The movie's at four, so if you feel better and change your mind..."

"Got it," she replied, nodding again. 

Their conversations dulled then, as did her thoughts, as her parents went about their business. She joined them in breakfast, and that was done without much heart in it. She went to watching television when they left the kitchen to wash up and prepare. She let herself numb on the couch, petting Bandit without really thinking about it and watching the screen without much interest. She occasionally tried to nap, only succeeding once in a while in having short, dreamless sleeps. It went on throughout the day, and the hours until the movie counted down. She vaguely recognized when her parents shouted they were leaving, nor when their car peeled out of the driveway. Her mind was elsewhere, and certainly not on the yellow sponge pulling some outrageous stunt on the screen.

In truth, she was consulting her thoughts from the night before, and tempering them into something usable. The hurt with them was gone and spent, and only anger and bitterness remained. The lesson had been taught and she kept it close to her and used it to reconstruct her emotions. First she sealed the love, and then found her happiness and serenity, which sh used it to mask everything else. She let herself think it was sincere, but a part of her knew she was forcing it and that thought made her work dangle on the edge of disaster. That was where it stayed, though; dangling. She was mostly whole again, and that was enough to make it through the day and for the unimaginable amount of time it would take to heal the scars.

When the clock read five Catherine's cell phone buzzed. She looked at it lazily and felt a stab in her chest when the name on it was the one she wanted to see the least. She opened the message anyways and waged war in her mind over accepting the invite, going over to his house, and staying where she was to mope in despair and self-pity. Pride won over, however, and, sending a quick message back, she got up and left the house with far less vigor than the two days before.

She found it almost unfathomable how, barely twenty-four hours ago she had been brimming with excitement about going over to Sam's house, and now she dreaded it with each step. Such a large part of her screamed and pleaded for her to just go back and not face him, but she knew she needed to. She couldn't tell him, of course—to tell him the truth after suffering would be too much, and she didn't want what they had right now to change if it couldn't become something more. But she needed to speak with him to keep what she at least had now. So went she did.

She let herself in, his parents out, too, and made her way up the stairs only to stop at his door, hesitant. She closed her eyes tight, mastering herself, and knocked twice before pushing the door open. There she found Sam lounging on his bed, watching something about an attack on an army base on the television. He quickly straightened up and welcomed her with a smile, and she smiled back to hide the pang in her chest. However, it changed to worry as he suddenly became frazzled.

"So, uh, y'know my car? The one that's missing now?" he asked, and she blinked with surprised, not having noticed at all. "Yeah, well, thing is—it's a robot."

She blinked again, this time slowly, "...What?"

"My car is a robot. Like as in it drove off by itself and transformed or something into a robot in the junkyard and it sent this light into the sky."

Normally, she would have laughed and said Sam was high or asked what Miles had given him, but this was not the joking or even nerdy face of Sam. The seriousness on his face made her realize he meant what he said and that he was not insane right now. Any self-pity from before was overruled by worry for her friend, and she sat herself on the bed beside him, her gaze serious, too.

"Sam... You... you better start at the beginning."

And so Sam told her everything that happened. How his car had suddenly driven off during the night; how he had chased it on his bike through the streets and into the junkyard; how he had hidden behind junk and watched as the car turned into a robot and shot the light into the sky; how he'd been chased by dogs and the car; how'd the police had found him and arrested him; how he'd ended up grounded and berated by his father. Everything spilled out in a mixture of fascination, worry, and fear. Catherine heard it all and understood that something was definitely going on.

"And now I'm stuck here, grounded," he finished, sitting back with a pout.

Catherine nodded and waited a few moments before replying, "I believe you."

Sam blinked once, then twice, and jerked forward with surprise. She took pleasure in that, but also a bit of hurt as she folded her arms.

"Yeah, it's crazy. Cars transforming into robots? That's a little sci-fi, but I know you Sam. You wouldn't make something like this up and tell it to the cops. Maybe me or Miles, but not the cops, and you wouldn't make up this kind of story for your car going missing. You would have told me your car was just stolen if that's just what happened, so, yes, I believe you."

"Thanks, Catherine. I mean it, you always have my back," he replied, smiling so sweetly and softly she wanted to cry again.

"I... And I always will, Sam," she managed to reply back, biting her tongue afterwards to distract the other pain. She was afraid she might not be strong enough when his stomach suddenly growled and he grinned sheepishly. She chuckled as he stood up to rub the back of his head.

"So, um, since you're here, how about lunch? We can talk about the car or whatever and—Oh!" he gasped and turned to her with eyes so excited they almost made her feel the same. "I have to tell you about last night with Mikeala!"

And any hopes of excitement crumpled into billions of pieces, which were then burned to ashes, and those ashes were pummeled to even smaller pieces and burned again. She kept a grin on, though, and nodded.

"Sure. I'll go grab some hotpockets from my place," she stated, hopping off the bed.

"And I'll provide drinks and cheetohs. Just like old time," he replied, following her out of the room.

She refused to look back as she hurried out at a pace he wouldn't question. It took so much strength to hold back the new wave of tears that she was amazed her legs carried her all the way back home. She was all too happy to close the door behind her and sink down to the tiled floor. She brought her knees close and shoved her head into her hands. She bit her tongue again and it helped a little. She breathed as slow and as deeply as she could, and, thankfully, it was enough to keep her under control. Her canine companions helped, too, coming over to stick their noses into her cheek and whine. She pet them gently, assuring she was okay, and finally stood up.

"Yeah. I'm okay... I'm okay," she murmured, and made for the kitchen. That is, until she heard a familiar scream from outside and the rumble of an engine. Fear spiking, she thrust open the door and did so just in time to see Sam racing by on his mother's pink bicycle with his car following right behind him... without a driver. She did a double take, but the car was gone by the then as it followed her friend around a corner. She could still hear his screams for help, and instincts took over.

Catherine slammed the door shut, sprinted to the garage, pulled out her own bike, which was actually meant for fast speeds, and peddled faster than she ever had the way Sam had gone. She knew she had started too late as she couldn't figure out which was he had gone at the intersection. She did know a road that would give her a good vantage point of the other streets, however, so she took that one. She hated how it involved biking uphill, but the crest of it allowed her to view the other streets and from there she was able to spot a figure biking on a pink bike and a yellow, black-striped car following them. She cursed the distance between them, but she wouldn't let such a thing deter her from protecting her friend.

"Hang on, Sam!" she shouted as she went back down hill, turning through the grassy terrain and avoiding the trees. She knew they were heading for the more urban part of the town, and she luckily knew how to cut through the brush to get there. She didn't know what the hell was going on with the damn car—if it was a Knight Rider or a robot or whatever—but she'd be damned if she let it lay a finger or wheel or whatever on Sam!

She cursed again when she lost sight for the second time, but she had the brains to ask people if they saw a boy on a pink bicycle. More than one person was all too happy to tell her through their laughter which way he went, and she was soon back on the trail. He was headed towards the freeway for whatever reason. While there were some places he could maybe hide there, but why was the idiot going so far? He should have gone for help! She knew she saw a police car a while back, so he should have, too. Then again, it was _Sam_. He was prone to getting into trouble, and, of course, it'd be up to her to get him out.

As luck would have it, she came up near one of the abandoned lots underneath a ramp and heard the echoes of his familiar scream. Not wasting anytime she spurred her aching legs to peddle faster, whipping her around the corner. She nearly fell off her bike though as she slammed her fingers onto the brakes. Her mouth hung open as Sam's screams ran through her ears and she could not believe her eyes.

"Are you username Ladiesman217?!"

The question was weird enough, but the fact it came from a robot towering over the dark-haired boy was like another cake on the original cake with another cake of just icing included. She'd never seen anything like it—the circuitry and anatomy, armor, and claws, and the red, glowing eyes. She repressed a shiver as she took it all in; the cars; the ramp; the sky; the robot; Sam— _Sam!!_

"Where is the eBay item 21153? Where are the glasses?" it roared, its fanged features coming closer to the young man as it slammed on the car again. Something clicked, and Catherine knew what the robot was talking about and that he meant to take them by inflicting as much pain as possible on Sam. She was not going to have any of that, though, and, doing the first thing that came to mind, she lifted her bike, got a running start, and threw it at the robot. It struck it in the side, bouncing off without so much as making a dent, but it was enough to get its attention.

"HEY!!" Catherine roared back, fists clenching and eyes glared. "You want the glasses? Well, I know where they are!"

The robot's red eyes flashed as it turned towards her, a low rumble escaping its throat—if it had one.

Sam's eyes widened, "Catherine! What are you—"

"Run, Sam!" she shouted back as the robot took a step towards her. "Hey, that's right. He doesn't know where they are—I do! So come and get me!"

"Catherine!"

"RUN!!" she screamed and, just as the robot increased its step, she took off at a dead sprint. She ignored Sam's cries as she dodged around a car. She knew the robot was after her by the heavy thuds of its feet and the crunch of metal. She only hoped Sam had listened and run. Of course, that left her with the problem of the robot now. She didn't dare look back as she weaved around cars and junk, all the while thanking the endurance and speed her sport gave her and praying to God she made it out of this. Unfortunately, her prospects looked incredibly grim as a car flew over her head.

"SHIT!" she cried out, nearly tripping as she drastically altered her course. The robot almost struck her then, but by sheer luck its claws missed her and she kept running. She knew she couldn't last forever; she needed to find a way to ditch the robot. But what then? It wanted something she had and it could obviously cause all kinds of damage, and not just to her or the immediate area. What if it got loose? Countless people would be hurt, and who knew if there more of them—Sam had mentioned his car was a robot, and the one chasing her had wheels and car doors!

She yelped loudly as another car flew over her, but this time it didn't entirely miss. Her arms had flown up to shield her face, and a piece of car managed to catch it, slicing through the flesh of her forearm. Pain erupted through her as she fell, tumbling from the force of the impact. She rolled to her back with the robot already within range. Panicked, she searched for a weapon, and found a broken pole. She grabbed it without thinking as the robot slammed its clawed fingers into the ground beside her.

"Where are the glasses?" it growled, its face looming dangerously close.

"Here's your fucking glasses!" she snarled and shoved the pole just beneath the robot's jaw. The pole struck something, breaking it, and blue fluid streamed out onto her. She yelped as the fluid spalshed into the wound, burning the exposed flesh. The robot roared as it lurched back, ripping the pole from its neck while she managed to retain some composure, pushed up with her good arm, and took off. She didn't get far before she tripped and the robot was after her again, but to her surprise a flash of yellow appeared in the corner of her eyes and the robot wasn't chasing her anymore.

Eyes widening, she watched as the car made a three-sixty into the robot's legs, tripping it, and then pulled up next to her. Sam was there in the next seocnd, picking her up and shoving her unceremoniously into the car. For some reason Mikeala was there, but she didn't really care much as the car peeled off and the burning pain in her arm became worse.

"Oh my God, Catherine! Your arm!" Sam cried at the sight of the mixed red-and-blue blood on her arm.

"Fuck! Help me get my shirt off so I can wrap it! It might have cut the vein," she shouted back, already attempting to get her shirt off. Both helped her, pulling the cloth over and off and then a sudden lurch made them ram into the sides of car. Mikeala managed to stay upright better than Sam, and ended up being the one to help wrap the wounded arm. It didn't ebb the pain, but it could at least stop the blood flow, and so all three turned their attention to the robot—now a police car—chasing them from behind.

If the robot was anything, it was persistent. Sam's car—no doubt a robot—had driven every which way and that, taking them somewhere, and attempting to lose the police car, but nothing seemed to work. The pain searing through Catherine's arm didn't help her situation, and as the seconds piled up so did the pain and a pressure in her head. It was like a headache multiplied by such a ridiculously large number that she couldn't properly think of. She felt hot, too, but she supposed that could have been from the adrenaline. At least she wasn't dripping blood, although the shirt was already fairly soaked with it. She could only pray it would be over soon enough.

As if answering her prayers, it did.

Nighttime was on them as Sam's car pulled into a power plant, craftily hiding from the police car—although locking the doors on them had not been so much fun—and then driving by quickly. Unfortunately, ending the race meant having them dumped out onto the ground on top of each other, which, again, did not help the arm pain. Thankfully the adrenaline was there and so were the other two, whom helped drag her out of the way as Sam's car transformed.

It was an amazing, beautiful thing to watch, and she would have enjoyed it more were the awe not muddled with pain. Still, she watched in awe with the others as the car came apart, the sides punching out to reveal arms that lead to four-digit hands; the front wheel and hood separated to reveal a rounded head; the back morphed into a pair of legs; and the doors became attached to the back like a pair of short, rounded wings. She scrambled back as the newly-formed robot stood up and shifted its feet so that it was angled protectively in front of them while it lifted its fist to challenge the incoming police car. With a gasp they watched as the charging vehicle transformed into the red-eyed robot from before and lunged, ramming straight into their robotic, yellow savior.

The two rolled, barely missing the three teenagers, and slammed into wires and barrels, which set off an array of sparks, but it when unnoticed as both rolled up, ready to fight. The evil robot glared down at the exposed humans, activated a chain-saw like weapon on its arm, and moved stalked towards them menacingly. They backed away as quickly as possible, but then a compartment in the robot's chest opened and _another_ robot popped out. Granted, it was much smaller, but none of the three dared take relief in that fact.

"Run, run, run!" Catherine hissed, finally managing to control her mouth again, and the three of them scrambled up just before the robot charged. The yellow one was up and ready, though, and it was only the smaller robot they had to worry about as the evil police car robot swung its chain-saw like weapon into their yellow protector. Again, they were nearly crushed, but somehow escaped the horrible fate, and watched as the yellow robot was chucked into one of the large containers, but then rolled up to tackle the police-car robot back. The battle between them was lost as the three kept moving, dodging between equipment.

They didn't get far, though, as the little robot came from out of nowhere and attacked the legs of the closest person, whom just happened to be Sam. He went down with a scream as the little monster began to crawl over him, the sharp digits cutting into his skin. Mikeala ran on, heading for a tool shed not too far off while Catherine took more direct measures, grabbing the robot's face tightly, and pulled. The adrenaline did wonders and she ripped the robot from Sam, chucking it a good few feet away. However, that didn't do much and the robot was back after them—or to be more exact, _her_. She yelped as it jumped, and it was only through sheer instinct that she raised her arm and blocked it. The robot was deterred, but it was also determined and tackled her legs this time. She went down, but she wasn't out.

"Get off!" Sam hollered, ramming his shoe into the robot's face. The blow worked, and Catherine was momentarily free of the monster, which was enough time for Sam to pull her up and for the two to start running. The little robot was faster, though, and raced after them. Luck wasn't on their side, as the robot was large enough to grab them both with its claws when it pounced, dragging both down towards the fence at the bottom of the hill. Catherine went first, the fence scraping her skin and ripping some of her under-armor. Sam was right behind and had become the robot's main target as he rolled into the sharp wires of the fence. With a well-placed kick the robot was off again and it set it eyes on Catherine once more.

She was better prepared this time, although her vision was a little burry. Still, she was ready when the silver bugger came. That is, until it started cutting at her arms, managing to slice at her already wounded arm. The pain there increased exponentially to where she couldn't focus right and it was up to Sam to help her as the weight of the robot forced her back to the ground. However, his hands weren't doing much and, in the end, it was Mikeala's intervention with a hand-held saw that saved her.

The dark-haired teen brought the saw on the robot with a vengeance, dicing the little monster's arms. It did the trick; the robot screeched in pain and fell from Catherine. The assault continued, though; Mikaela slicing and cutting at the robot until she was out of breath and Sam had pulled her back. Her work was phenomenal: the robot was headless and the body twitching with the last bits of motion it had left. It was almost like a dead chicken, which helped alleviate the situation some. The head still groaned and whined, however, so Sam took the initiative.

"Not so tough without a head are you?" he taunted and, summoning his non-existent football skills, punted the head clean over the hill and out of sight. Catherine didn't have the heart to tell him he should have said "body" instead of "head", and, frankly, she was too exhausted to do so. She was just glad that was over, and so were the other two. They all met each other's gaze with relief for a moment before Sam looked back to where they had come. It was then Catherine noticed a lack of sound, and she wondered if their savior had had as much luck as them.

"Come on," Sam called, grabbing Mikeala's hand, who took it. The red-head winced at the sight, but let it go as she followed after the two back the way they'd come. Finding the robot was easy enough; they just had to follow the destruction and look for his form standing victoriously over his fallen enemy. He turned towards them, as if knowing where they were, and Catherine watched as his right hand—now a gun—turned back into a hand. She felt her excitement peak as they came closer, and Mikeala asked the question riding on everyone's mind.

"What is it?" 

"It's a robot," was Sam's reply, and Catherine snorted, but he continued on anyways, "But different—like a super advanced robot. It's probably Japanese. Yeah. It's definitely Japanese."

"Not even the Japanese have this, Sam," the redhead stated, stepping closer. Sam balked, at first, but then followed, much to Mikeala's dismay.

"What are you two doing!?" she hissed.

"I don't think it wants to hurt us," he mused, though his steps were cautious.

"He's right, Mikeala. I don't think the robot would have gone through all the trouble of helping us get away from the other if it did," Catherine added, already up at the hill and looking up into the robot's eyes. They were a beautiful shade of blue, and they were glowing incredibly bright in the dark.

"Oh really?" the dark-haired girl inquired, her disbelief evident and reasonable. "Well do you two speak robot because they just had like a giant _death match_!"

Whether the robot heard or not, it stood before them proudly, hands on its hips and chest held high. It looked down at Catherine and Sam in such a way that the redhead knew it was smiling at them. It made relief flow through her veins as she continued to stare at it.

"I think it wants something from me," Sam murmured, coming up beside Catherine. She didn't say it, but she had a feeling it wanted something from _her_ instead. In particular, a little something she left on her bed at home.

" _What_?" the other girl nearly shrieked.

He glanced back at Mikeala briefly, "Well, the other robot was talking about my eBay page."

"You are the strangest boy I have ever met!" she exclaimed, but Sam didn't notice as he stepped forward.

"Can you talk?" he shouted up to it.

 _"XM Satellite Radio. Digital Cable. Broadcasting system,"_ was the robot's reply.

"Whoa—it talks through the radio," Catherine breathed.

"The radio? So you talk through the radio?" the young man asked.

The robot made an applaud sound and even clapped it hands. The redhead grinned at the gesture, and also wondered how it knew to do so. Of course, if it was tapped into a satellite radio then it must have found the internet, so it was possible it had researched such things. Regardless, her excitement was reaching an all-time high.

"So what was that last night?" Sam asked. "What was that?"

The robot turned its gaze upwards and pointed to the sky, using sound bites about a message from Starfleet and vistors raining down from the heavens.

"Visitors from heaven? Like as in a ship?" Catherine asked, eyes going wider than before.

Mikeala came up on Sam's other side and added, "What are you like an alien or something?"

Alien was the key word, the robot pointing at them enthusiastically and crouching down to transform back into a car. A quick quote from John Wayne and the robot opened its car door, beckoning them in. Catherine didn't even look at the other two as she stepped forward without fear. This, she knew, was something she'd always been waiting for—for something amazing to happen in her life. But to think it would be an alien that turned into a car? Her heart was bursting with joy at the thought. There was no way in hell she was going to be missing out on this, and if the others didn't want to come... well, she didn't mind—she would have actually preferred—Mikeala not coming although she did save her life, but she did hope Sam would.

"Whoa—Catherine, wait!" the boy cried out, and she turned expecting to see hesitance. It was there, but she could tell he wanted to go, too, and that made her happy.

She grinned, "C'mon, Sam—isn't this a dream come true?"

He paused for a moment before nodding and turned to Mikeala. Catherine looked away then and the robot was kind enough to move his back seat for her. She settled in comfortable, although knocked her arm on accident, bringing a hiss of pain. She bit it back as she watched as Sam grabbed Mikeala's arm and looked at her in such a way that made her heart ache. She could never recall him looking at her like that. Never. And the way Mikeala looked back—Catherine turned away, not able to bear it, and bit her tongue to keep herself from losing control.

"So where are you going to be taking us, Mr. alien?" she inquired to get the scene off her mind.

_"Friends, Romans, Countrymen."_

"I don't suppose any of them are a doctor? My arm's kinda of messed up pretty bad—it's starting to sting again, too."

_"You need it. We got it."_

She grinned as she nodded and leaned back. Sure enough, the burn was returning. It wasn't as bad as before, but she knew her adrenaline was keeping most of the hurt back. She also knew that once it wore down, she'd be feeling the pain big time. Thankfully, the other two finally made it into the car and the robot peeled off, stopping only to grab Mikeala's discarded purse, then left the other robots and the plant far behind.

They travelled back to the main road, using it to go onto the highway, and they did so in silence. Catherine, biting back the growing pain and dizziness, Sam sitting comfortable in the passenger seat, and Mikeala sitting on the center piece, casting occasional, uneasy glances at the steering wheel. The silence was welcoming for the redhead, although thinking was difficult, and she hoped it would stay like that all the way to wherever they were going, However, she knew it wasn't bound to last when she saw her friend looking over at the object of his affections, mouth twitching nervously. She looked away then, and did her best to lock their conversation out of her mind.

She still heard it, though. She heard him shamelessly flirt with her; shamelessly coax her into his lap. She briefly wondered if he would have done it had he known she hated it—if he knew how much it hurt. But he didn't, and she wasn't going to tell him. She was just going to push on like it didn't hurt, because she knew if Sam knew she was hurt, he would be upset. And he was happy now. She wanted him to be happy, so this was alright. It was alright. Sam was happy. So she was happy. She was happy. She wasn't.

"What the?!" she shouted as the robot suddenly screeched to a halt, ejected the two in the front seat onto the sidewalk. Unfortunately, while the other two were complaining on the streets, the car door closed, leaving Catherine inside while their ride made a one eighty and drove the other way. Panicked trickled in as she wondered what the hell the robot was doing, and then wondered the sme thing again when she felt the seatbelt click into place around her. She didn't have time to question as the car _tilted_ on its side. Curses flew from her mouth even when it returned to ground, and they increased when the vehicle shifted around her.

It was weird, to say the least, being inside a morphing car. The seats became smoother and made of pristine leather, the inside became wider and sleek, the dashboard gained a CD-player and advanced radio, and at the end of it she was sitting in a brand spanking new Camaro. Her face was just as surprised as the other two, whom wasted no time in getting back into the new car.

"Now _this_ is a car!" Mikeala breathed and Sam only nodded, at loss for words.

"Well, I personally thought the old school was just fine," the redhead rumbled, still a little uneasy from the little stunt. As if in agreement, the engine revved loudly once and then they peeled off again, this time much faster and with far more style.

It didn't take long for them to come up to an off limits observatory and the robot let Sam and Mikeala out. Catherine would have joined them, but she was beginning to feel really sick. The burn in her arm was gone, but not her stomach. Not to mention her head hurt and she felt hot again. She could still think clearly, thankfully, but she was still inclined to sitting in the back seat. She noticed the AC had increased in the back, and silently thanks the robot for trying to make her feel better. She didn't miss the small meteor shower, though, and watched with awe as they shot overhead. Evidently the observatory was not where they were meant to meet, so once the show had ended the robot urged Sam and Mikeala back into the car and they drove off again.

The trip was much shorter this time, and ended up in an abandoned alleyway in a less populated part of town. It was dark and damp and a perfect place to be mugged, by she was fairly certain their robot friend could easily prevent any attacks upon them. Of course, once they were out of the car and the first set of headlights came into the view, the thought was gone and replaced with as much excitement as her feverish head would allow.

 _My God,_ was all she could think as the semi-truck came from the front while a small Pontiac followed by a large, black truck and a lime-green hummer came from behind. The three humans found no words to say as the vehicles all drove up close, and if any had been daring to form, they were snuffed out when the semi-truck transformed. The others followed in suit and it was something incredibly to watch. It was even better as Catherine realized that, of all the people the aliens could have come to, they came to _them_. This was happening to _her_ —she was witnessing something amazing. She couldn't help, but grin weakly as the semi-truck finished its transformation, revealing an even larger red-and-blue robot with blue eyes and air about him that commanded awe and respect, which she gladly gave him.

The red-and-blue robot kneeled down, coming close to Sam, "Are you Samuel James Witwicky, descendent of Archibald Witwicky?"

"They know your name," Mikeala whispered, as Sam struggled to find his voice. Her voice managed to pull it out as he gave a nervous "yes".

"My name is Optimus Prime. We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," the robot replied.

"But you can call us Autobots for short," the lime-green Hummer robot next to him added.

"Autobots?" Sam tested.

"What's crackin' little bitches?" the silver Pontiac inquired, and Optimus introduced him as his first Lieutenant, Jazz while the mech performed a smooth flip. "This look like a cool place to kick it."

Catherine smiled briefly, noting how gangster the robot was acting.

"Wha—what is that? How'd he learn to talk like that?" Sam asked, mouth agape.

"We've learned Earth's language through the World Wide Web," was Optimus simple reply. Shifting from behind brought their attention to the black truck robot, whom popped a set of enormous cannons from his arms.

"My Weapons Specialist, Ironhide."

"You feeling lucky, punk?" the mech inquired, aiming the cannons right at them. No, Catherine did not feel so lucky then, but she was not going to say so.

"Easy, Ironhide," Optimus chastised, and the black-armored robot shrugged.

"Just kidding. I only wanted to show them my cannons."

They turned to the lime-green robot next, whom sniffed the air just as Optimus introduced him as their medical officer Ratchet.

He hummed, "The boy's pheromone levels suggests he wants to _mate_ with one of the females."

The situation quickly became awkward, but the leader thankfully noticed and gestured to the yellow robot that had brought them here, whom was showing off his boxing skills.

"You already know your guardian, Bumblebee."

 _"Check on the rep, yeah, second to none!"_ his radio sang.

"You're my guardian?" Sam asked, and the bot nodded enthusiastically.

"His vocal processors were damaged in battle," Ratchet spoke up, aiming his arm and firing a laser at the robot's neck. Bumblebee "coughed" a little as the medic poked at his tool. "I'm still working on it."

With the introduction done, the small group glanced once more around at the robots surrounding them, the same, single question running through their minds. Catherine would have asked it, but she rubbed her eyes instead to try and push away some of the dizziness. Mikeala stepped forward bravely, though.

"Why are you here?"

Optimus Prime looked down at her gravely, "We are here looking for the Allspark, and we must find it before Megatron."

"Mega-what?" the boy asked worriedly, and Prime reached up to touch the side of his head, emitting a beam of light from his eyes into the ground. They stepped back with a gasp as the ground at their feet fell away to reveal a pit of burning, golden-colored light-like lava, but it wasn't exactly lava— it was something else.

"Our planet was one a powerful empire; peaceful and just," he explained as a metal spire shot up from the ground. Part of it passed through Catherine's arm and they realized it was a hologram and not real. Still, it was so prestine an image that she was afraid she might fall over the edge if she strayed too far. "Until we were betrayed by Megatron, leader of the Decepticons."

The image panned out, revealing a planet of titanic buildings and beings littered with the corpses of countless others like the Autobots. It was awful to see; the chaos; the death; the destruction. And then there was Megatron, in all his deadly glory with eyes a deeper red than she had ever known and chilling, jagged armor that matched his bestial appearance. Catherine could not repress the shiver she felt at the sight of him, nor the notion of sorrow she felt for all the others gone, and she could not help but wonder why she felt so.

"All that defied them were destroyed. Our war finally consumed the planet, and the Allspark was lost to the stars. Megatron followed it to Earth where Captain Witwicky found him. It was an accident that intertwined our fates; Megatron crash landed before he could retrieve the Cube. Captain Witwicky accidentally activated his navigation system. The coordinates to the Cube's location on Earth were imprinted on his glasses."

Catherine's breath hitched, realizing the very glasses they sought were in her room and that Sam's ancestor was not really crazy. Everything had had spoken of was true, and those symbols on the glasses weren't any language of Earth at all—they were Cybetron or Cybertronian, she supposed, and coordinates to this Allspark thing. There was satisfaction in known she possessed something so special, and would have felt better had the ground beneath her not start to spin.

"How'd you know about his glasses?" Sam asked.

"Ebay," the Autobot leader replied.

"If the Decepticons find the Allspark they will use its power to transform Earth's machines and build a new army," Ratchet spoke, the gravity in his voice all too evident.

Optimus Prime rose up, "And the human race will be extinguished. Sam Witwicky, you hold the key to Earth's survival."

"Please tell me you have those glasses, " Mikeala pleaded, and Sam turned to her to nod.

"Actually, he doesn't," Catherine spoke up, and the group looked at her with surprise. She was barely able to acknowledge it as she wavered, her vision darkening at the edges and the pain and heat increasing tenfold now. " _I_ do."

With her last bit of strength spent on the words, she collapsed. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_**TMWolf:** So bottom notes like are weird?? Idk it didn't work how I wanted so I'll write them here instead I guess?_

_And there we have it! Chapter three ends, and oh noes! Catherine fainted- whatever could be wrong with her?_

_Just fyi- I enjoy harming my characters apparently? I'm not really actually mean (I tell myself anyways lol), but I find it make a good story if the characters- especially the main one- get hurt in some way? For Catherine it's all the way around, apparently. I'm just awful, aren't I? Ho, ho ho._

_So that's that. They've met the 'bots and now it's time to play doctor for Catherine! Love the reviews/input as always, so leave one and let me know what ya think! :D_


	5. Bad Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, time to make sure our main character lives lmao

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Catherine!” Sam shouted, diving forward to catch the redhead as she fell. He managed to get there in time, but had to fall to his knees when his hands couldn’t support the full weight in the position he was in. He made sure she didn’t hit the ground, though, and turned her upwards to look at her. Her face was pained, sweaty, and there was a dribble of blood coming from her nose. Only, the blood wasn’t red—it looked purple; almost black in the dim light.

“What’s wrong with her?” Mikeala gasped, helping to adjust the redhead to a more comfortable position. She touched her forehead carefully. “Jesus! She’s burning up!”

“Help!” Sam shouted, turning back to the mechs. “Help! Something’s wrong!”

The Autobots' Medic didn’t need another word as he rushed forward and flashed a beam down on Catherine, going down her entire frame, his mouth gradually falling into a scowl. A panel on his arm moved and he ran his fingers across it with a displeased hum that did nothing to ease Sam’s worry.

Ratchet balked when he finished, “By the Allspark—it’s Energon poisoning! But how? Could it—Boy! Has she ingested or been exposed any unnatural fluids? Even a simple scratch would be enough.”

“A scratch? Her arm!” the boy shouted and held up her still-wrapped wound, the shirt black and wet from the blood. With a quick word from the medic, he removed the cloth and the two humans winced at the sight. What should have been slightly tanned, freckled skin was instead blackened, reaching almost all the way around her arm. It had moved up towards her shoulder too, branching out into thin, black vines that had to be her veins. The wound itself was oozing a mixture of white puss and blue fluid, and there was a horrid stench not so unlike burning flesh that made them gag.

“That’s Energon poisoning alright. I’ve only seen it once or twice with an organic, but that’s it for sure,” Ratchet nodded grimly, and then glared at Bumblebee. “Why didn’t you tell me one of the humans was infected let alone hurt?!”

The yellow Autobot bowed his head, beeping apologetically, but the medic had already lost interest as he shifted his finger into a needle-like device and then shuffled through an opened space in his chest compartment. From there he brought out a vial of fluid not unlike the ones from the hologram image Optimus had shown them, only white. He inserted the needle-like device into, pulling out some of the liquid, and gently picked up Catherine’s arm where he aiming the needle point at the elbow, right above the wound.

Sam lurched forward, stopping his hand, “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing! Do you even know about human anatomy?”

“I’m injecting a neutralizing agent to the Energon into her systems. It should be able to combine with the Energon in her and stop it from corroding her body further and allow her immune system to deal with the rest. And yes, I made sure to download human physiology when we accessed the World Wide Web, now stand aside before her damage is increased.”

“Wait—‘should’? You mean you this might kill her instead?” Mikeala shouted, and the medic sighed with exasperation.

“Cybertron isn’t exactly full of organics, but our bodily systems run much the same in concept, and the data from my scans provided enough to confirm it should react how I predict. Either way, she will offline, but the neutralizing agent at least has a chance to save her.”

Sam glanced back at the others, specifically at Bumblebee, whom gave an encouraging nod and round of beeps. The other robots were in agreement as well, and he turned to Ratchet and nodded back. While he wasn’t sure himself, the medic was right—Catherine was going to die if they didn’t do anything and if that neutralizer whatever thing could save her, then he would let Ratchet inject it. He couldn’t let Catherine die.

“There,” the medic stated, releasing the last of the liquid. “Now hold her arm still for me. I’ll need to seal the wound.”

Sam nodded and had Mikeala hold Catherine’s torso while he held out the arm to allow the medic to transform his hand into yet another device. He pulled his friend’s arm away again, not sure, but the medic confirmed it was only an organic sealing agent that would form a synthetic layer of skin over the wound to allow the platelets to clot and then eventually take on the skin’s cellular structure. While most of the words had gone over Sam’s head, he knew it would help, so he let the medic continue and spray the white foamy substance over the wound. Just as he said, the foam settled into what looked like skin, only it was milky-white with a tint of the black underneath in the center.

“So she’s gunna be okay, right?” Sam asked, almost desperately, as he shifted Catherine so that she would be more comfortable on his lap and her arm could rest on her stomach.

“Yes, she should be if the data and my theory are correct. I can’t say how long it will take—your bodies’ circulation timing has too many variables to make an accurate assumption, but with her increased heart rate and the extent of the poisoning it could take Earth minutes to hours.”

“But we can’t just sit here,” Ironhide spoke up from behind them. “With every klik the Decepticons are getting closer to finding the Allspark; we can’t just sit here and wait for the human to heal.”

Ratchet glared, “We can if she is the one who knows where the glasses are.”

“The human was malfunctioning. How do we know her words weren’t caused by the glitch?” the weapon’s specialist countered. Before the medic could bark something back, Optimus Prime stepped forward and looked down at Sam, whom looked back up with worried, unsure eyes.

“Sam, did Catherine speak the truth? Do you not know where the glasses are?”

“I… They’re… I… No, wait—No. I don’t. I thought they were on the kitchen with my backpack, but when I picked it up yesterday they weren’t there,” he replied, looking back down at his friend. The pain in her face had lessened, but she was still hot and the skin on her arm still blackened. “And someone did buy them, so maybe it was her. I think Mom mentioned something about sending them to the buyer.”

“Looks like we’re waiting for the kid ta wake up then, but this place ain’t exactly the right place for holdin’ it down,” Jazz spoke just as Ironhide meant to make a most likely gruff remark. The smaller, silver mech cast the larger one a look, which made the weapons specialist turn away with a grumble, and then both looked to Optimus Prime.

“Jazz is right. We must retreat to some place safer until Catherine awakens,” he rumbled.

“Where would we go, though? I doubt any of our parents will be happy to know we’re consorting with alien robots—good or bad!” Mikeala asked Sam, and the boy bit his lip in thought.

“We’ll need to head to back to my neighborhood to get the glasses, though,” he mused, and then snapped his head back up. “The back alley—there’s a back alley behind our houses. We can wait there, or if her parents aren’t home then we can get inside. I know where the key’s hidden.”

Mikeala raised a brow at that, but she kept the questions in her head.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Bumblebee, you’ll lead us there. Ratchet, you’ll take the humans with you. Jazz, Ironhide, we’ll cover. Transform and roll out!” Optimus Prime ordered and transformed, the others following. As per orders, Bumblebee moved to the head of the convoy, while the medic remained by the humans and opened his doors for them. The two carefully lifted the redhead into his vehicle form and laid her on their laps. Ratchet took off after Bumblebee once they were settled, making sure to drive smoothly as the others followed close behind.

“She’s getting cooler,” Sam sighed with relief as he checked her temperature again. Mikeala glanced at him and then down at Catherine and this time she didn’t hold back her question.

“So, um, what’s with you and Catherine? Are you like…?”

His eyes widened, “What? Oh, no—we’re, uh, we’re just friends. Best friends. I’ve known her since we were little, and she’s, y’know, family.”

“Oh. That’s, uh, that’s nice. Awesome,” she replied, smiling back. “She’s, um, not in the same classes as us, too, is she?”

“Uh, no. She’s, um, in AP classes. Going for the good college resume and all,” he grinned back.

“So she’s the brain and the brawn then?”

“Oh, well, she’s not all the brawn. Um, I, uh, yeah…” he fumbled, but the girl smiled and he didn’t feel awkward as he normally would have been.

“Y’know, you’re lucky to have a friend like Catherine. I mean, you did say she got that cop robot away from you.”

Sam looked down at the redhead, “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_It begins._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine’s eyes opened slowly, the lids still a bit heavy, and then closed again. The pain from before was gone, as was the dizziness, but she did still feel a little weak. She supposed it was from the blood loss of the wound and the entire day, too. Her limbs certainly felt fatigued at the moment. At least she was comfortable wherever she was. She almost didn’t want to move, but she knew she had to. The last thing she could remember was being in the ally and someone talking about Autobots and Decepticons, some magical Allspark do-hickey, and then something about Sam’s glasses.

She gasped, shooting up as the realization smacked into her, and she regretted it. Nausea came over her for a moment, but it left soon enough, and her only issue was the sudden presence of hands grabbing her shoulders. She saw Mikeala first and was surprised by how worried and relieved the dark-haired girl was. She hadn’t expected that from her, let alone everything else that had happened. She wasn’t as girly as Catherine had originally thought, too-- not after she’d destroyed the silver robot. She remembered what she was to Sam, though, and some bitterness returned, but not enough to show on her face.

“Catherine, thank God! You’re awake! Do you feel okay?” Sam bombarded her ears, and she finally looked over at him. It felt nice to see him so worried, but she didn’t respond right away as she wondered if she really was okay. Her body really didn’t hurt now that she was more aware. She glanced down at her arm, noting the strange white sheen to her skin where the wound had been. Her skin was stained a brownish color thanks to the dried blood, but there were some spots were her skin looked a little black around the white scar. She mentally shivered at the sight of it, wondering what happened to do that. She let it slide, though, as she felt the all too familiar shifting of weight as a car slowed, and finally looked around.

“I’m fine, but where are we?” she asked. She knew she was in a vehicle—a medical one at that—and she was sitting between Sam and Mikeala in the seats of it. But the rest was a blank.

“You’re in my vehicular form, Catherine,” a voice—Ratchet, she remembered—came from the radio of the vehicle. “But to be more exact, we are twenty minutes, forty-five seconds from the back alley of your neighborhood. However, as you have awakened, we will be stopping to determine your condition.”

“Wait—what happened after I blacked out? I think I said something about the glasses?”

“Yeah, you did, and basically Ratchet healed you and then we decided to go ahead and head back to the house and then we’d wait until you woke up,” Sam replied, and she touched the scar tentatively. It didn’t even hurt with the contact, and the “skin” felt hard—almost like a durable plastic.

“How long was I out?”

“Approximately thirty minutes and forty-two second,” the medic stated and then opened his doors. “The area has been secured, so if you would exit I would like to inspect your recovery.”

They did as told, Mikeala helping Catherine, whom stumbled slightly as she stepped out. The other vehicles had formed a circle around them and once Ratchet began his transformation, so did they. The redhead looked around and realized they were in the far-off abandoned lots that had yet to be turned into neighborhoods. It was a good choice to keep themselves discrete; the bots wouldn’t even need to crouch down, and nobody would be able to see them so far out with the only light sources being the moon and the headlights of the vehicles, which had been dimmed.

“Alright, hold still,” Ratchet softly ordered as he hovered over Catherine and flashed the same beam from before It was over quickly and, after a bit of tinkering with his panels, he nodded. “It looks like the neutralizing agent worked. Your body has regained ninety percent homeostasis and your cells have recovered well now that the Energon in your body is no longer harmful.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” she spoke quickly, holding up her hands to stop him. “What is no longer harmful and how did it get in my body?”

“Energon entered your bloodstream through the wound on your forearm and proceeded to infect your body. I administered a neutralizing agent to counteract the Energon and then also used the healing solution to repair the damage, which was thankfully not severe.”

“I’ll just go ahead and say that’s good since I’m not dead.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay? You were burning up and your skin—it was…” Sam trailed off, frowning worriedly again. She gave him a reassuring smile and punched him lightly with her bad arm.

“I feel better than even one hundred percent!” she replied, although her limb was protestant to her moving so quickly. Luckily, the pain didn’t last much more than a few seconds. 

“I am glad to hear you have recovered, Catherine. We were concerned you were in danger of offlining,” Optimus Prime finally spoke now that Ratchet had finished his prognosis. The redhead turned and stared up with awe, unable to help herself although she’d already seen him up close. “Forgive me if we are being too ‘pushy’—I believe that is the right word—but it is imperative that you bring us the glasses.”

“I understand,” she nodded back, and she turned to face the direction she knew her house was. “I left them in my room, so we’ll need to head there. You’ll need to be quiet, though. Most people will be asleep, including my parents if they’re home, and it’ll be better if they don’t see you. People generally don’t take well to giant, alien robots.”

“Very well. Autobots, engage stealth mode,” he ordered, his voice low, yet authoritative at the same time.

The Autobots moved at once, shifting back into their vehicular forms. This time Ratchet did not open his doors for the humans, and, instead, Bumblebee rolled up and opened his. Mikeala got in first, but Sam paused before entering to look back at Catherine whom hadn’t stepped forward. She hadn’t, in part because she expected the medic would want to keep her under wraps, and the other was because she didn’t want to have to be in such close proximity with them together. She told herself it was really just to let them bond, but she knew better. Still, the lie felt better than admitting the truth.

“Catherine? You coming?” he asked, ready to push the seat forward.

She shook her head, “Nah. It’d be too crowded and you know I like the front seat. I’ll hitch a ride with the others.”

Her friend gave a small, quick smile lingering between disappointment and thanks, before shuffling into the car. She turned away, hoping to keep the emotions ramming against her walls hidden. She managed to smile a little herself when the silver Pontiac rolled up beside her and opened its door.

“O.P. wants to hurry things along, so you n’ the others will be ridin’ with the speedsters. And since Bee’s full, that means you get ta ride with the Jazz-mech,” his voice spoke from the radio, much like Ratchet’s had, and her smile widened sincerely. She gladly sunk into the driver’s seat and marveled at the interior. Granted, the car was a little small for her tastes, but she did love the décor and could easily get used to the fine leather seats.

“You, my good Autobot, have excellent tastes,” she purred as she clicked the seat belt into place, and the engine revved slightly.

“Do it in style, or don’t do it all,” he replied smoothly. “Now let’s roll for it.”

She tilted her head as he took off, the others close behind, “Wait—you know the way to my house?”

“’Course—‘Bee passed the coordinate ‘round when we left the alley. Just chil’lax and enjoy the ride, ya dig?”

“Sure, thing,” she laughed and leaned back into the seat. It was really comfortable and the ride really was smooth despite the bumpy landscape before they got to the paved roads. She took the time to look down at her wound again, gingerly running her finger across the scar. It looked like skin, whatever it was, although it was too hard and too pale to be so. And it must have also been good at repairing since all the pain was gone besides slightly sore limbs.

“Ya sure ya doin’ good, shorty? Docbot told me to PM him if ya were having problems,” Jazz spoke, pulling her from her study.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Really. It doesn’t hurt at all, to be honest. Whatever Ratchet did really worked.”

“That’s good ta hear,” he replied, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I didn’t think ya humans had Energon here on this planet, though.”

“Yeeeeeeah, well, that’s ‘cause we don’t. I think it only happened ‘cause that insane police robot car—a Decepticon, I’m guessing since they're the bad guys and it tried to kill me. Anyways, I think the crazy police ‘bot spilled some on me when I stabbed him with the pole.”

She felt the car vibrate as he laughed, “Ya stabbed ‘ol Barricade with a pole? Slaggit, shorty, ya be one rockin’ human.”

“Why, thank-you, Jazz. I do my best,” she winked, and felt only slightly foolish for doing so since he technically was the car. Movement at the corner of her eyes caught her attention then, and she looked over to find Bumblebee coming up on their right side. His windows were tinted, so it was impossible to make out anything through them in the dark, but she knew very well who was in there, probably talking. Probably shamelessly flirting. She shook her head with a deep sigh, telling herself to stop thinking about it—to just get over it and put it behind her. If only it were that easy.

“Whoa, shorty, ya sure ya cool?” Jazz asked a little worried. She thought about lying, but it was a weak notion, and she only sighed again with a sad smile.

“It’s… It’s nothing serious—just heartbreak. And it’s nothing Ratchet or any doctor can cure.”

“Probably a good thing ya didn’t ride with Docbot then. He’d a blown a gasket if ya told him that.”

“Glad I didn’t ride with him, then,” she chuckled, and in that moment curiosity finally took over. “But, um, hey—with the time we have left until we get to my house… Do you mind… maybe… answering some, um, questions about you guys?”

“About us? Yeah, sure. Don’t mind at all. Fire away, shorty.”

And fire away she did.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

-O- 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

When they finally pulled into the back alley, Catherine actually wished they hadn’t. She would have given anything to make the trip longer— to extend her time with Jazz. Every passing second with him had only increased her curiosity’s hunger, turning it into an insatiable, ravenous beast thirsting for more knowledge about the Autobots, their race, and their planet. Already the robot had told her so much, and yet there was still a vast—almost endless—amount to learn about their kind. They had over millions—probably billions—of years of history, after all. She almost didn’t know what to ask, but she managed to learn about how the Allspark was their source of life, about the sparks in their bodies, the Energon and differences in their types and purposes, and even discussed their weaponry and skills. It was all so fascinating that she could hardly be contained in her seat.

She hadn’t been the only one to ask questions, either. Jazz had plenty of his own that he squeezed into the conversation when he could. He mostly wondered about the culture of earth—particularly the musical side of it, which led to the discovery that he enjoyed rock ‘n roll, hip hop, and rap styles the best. He did manage to break free from the music to ask about humans themselves, and that had led to extremely awkward moments-- the worst was explaining how her kind reproduced and how he should never, under any circumstance, use the Internet to really find out about the topic. She was fairly sure she’d done her species a favor by doing so. He’d asked a bit more about some of their other customs before he began to ask things about herself, such as her own interests. She told him, and the two soon realized they had many things they liked in common, such as music.

Besides just normal inquisitive conversation, though, Jazz had done what she need most: made her laugh. There was no doubt he was a robot that knew how to have a good time, and mixing his accent in was enough to set her off. And by God did it help. She’d practically forgotten all about Sam and Mikeala throughout the whole ride thanks to him, and now that it was over, she didn’t want to leave. Yet, she knew she had to and, on some level, needed to. So, breathing in deeply, she had Jazz open the door so she could step out, and looked at Sam, Mikeala, and Bumblebee. The rest had yet to catch up, the two “speedsters” having gone ahead.

“Okay, the lights are off, meaning my parents are asleep, so you guys stay here. It won’t take long to get the glasses and get back out. Or, well, if my parents don’t wake up, anyways. But I know how to get out of interrogations, so that’s fine. Anyways, um, yeah, stay here,” she spoke, bringing up her hands to emphasize the “stay here”.

“Oh shit!” Sam suddenly shouted, grabbing at his hair. “Curfew! My parents are gunna be so pissed! I’ve got to go talk to them.”

Catherine groaned, “Okay. Just hurry. Um, Mikeala? You stay here and make sure these two and the rest stay put?”

“Uh, sure?” the dark-haired girl replied, and the redhead realized how silly the idea of a five-foot -something human making twenty-feet robot stay put was. Regardless, it would have to do, and she gave the two a thumbs-up before jogging down to the gate leading to her backyard while Sam did the same for his. Using skills honed over the years, she silently opened and closed it, and then did the same to her backyard door after snatching up the hidden key to it. Dasher was the only one in the laundry room, and he didn’t do much besides lift his head, wag his tail, and then ignore her. That was fine, and, thankfully, Sophie was much the same. She worried Bandit might pull a stunt, but when she peered into her parent’s room, he was sleeping in his crate. Next, she listened for her parents.

Good. They’re sleeping. Probably thought I was at Sam’s or something since I’ve done that before, she mused and then carefully made her way up the stairs, avoiding the creaky parts of them. She couldn’t stop a few of the sounds though, the structure ninja-proof, but her parents were too deep asleep to hear, and she made it to her room safely. The glasses were right where she left them, and so picked them up with a victorious “yes”. She was about to leave when she recalled she was only wearing her under-armor and scratched up pants. She looked down at her arm and, figuring it would be extremely unnatural to have it, she snatched up her blue, State hoodie and pulled it over.

All set, Catherine made it to the door before she stopped, her ears catching the echoes of a chorus of thuds outside. She withheld a groan, already guessing at what had happened. She slipped to her window, opened it, and balked at the sight of the silver robot stepping over her fence. She looked down the street and smacked her face with her palm when she spotted the other robots trampling all over Sam’s yard for whatever God-forsaken reason. Then they proceeded to do the silliest attempt at hiding in their vehicle forms. Jazz didn’t do the same, apparently his over-ten-feet-tall body safely hidden behind her six-foot fence.

“Jazz, what the hell are you guys doing?! I told you to stay in the alley! You’re lucky my parents are like the heaviest sleepers ever!” she hissed as he came to her window, his face just below the sill.

“Well, ‘Bee got worried when Sam’s parents ‘grounded’ him or sumthin’, so he transformed ‘n went ta check it out. Prime ‘n the others got worried n' followed him, so I came ta check on ya while they’re reconnin’ the other scene since it didn’t look like ya had much trouble.”

“For the love of—!” she smacked her face again, shaking her head, and then she watched as the Autobots began to walk way, only to have Ratchet run into the power lines. And, of course, the power went out. “Are you shitting me? You guys are advanced robots and you do this?”

Jazz shrugged, “We ain’t used ta the planet, yet. And we’re anxious ta get the glasses ‘n all. Speaking of which—ya got them, shorty?”

“Uh-huh. Got ‘em right here,” she announced proudly, showing them off in her hand.

“Sweet. Alright, well, the others are fallin’ back, so hop on and we’ll split,” he grinned, holding his hand out to her. She raised a brow at it, and glanced over to Sam’s house as the other mechs were, indeed, heading back to the alley way. She grumbled something incoherent, stepped on, and clung to his thumb to keep her balance as he pulled away and stepped into the alley. She was glad to be on the ground, and quickly used the comfortableness to glare as the others crouching down beside her.

“I told you to stay put!” she hissed at Prime, whom regarded her with an apologetic, but also somewhat annoyed look.

“We were concerned for the boy’s safety,” he replied.

“So Jazz told me, and let me tell you right now, his parents aren’t Decepticons or potential targets! ‘Grounding’ is a normal thing, too! Did you only learn about language and eBay on the Internet?”

“I apologize for our actions, but, please, time is of the essence! Do you have them?”

“Yes, yes, I have them right here,” she replied, pulling them from her jacket pocket. “So what do we do—“

Her words were cut off when the unmistakable sound of Sam and his parents’ voices shouting came from over the fence. There were shouts from other people too—people she didn’t know. Without even thinking, she spun around Optimus Prime and sprinted into the unfinished yard of the house next to them. She ignored their shouts as she vaulted over the equipment and skidded to a stop behind one of the bushes. The darkness hid her as she watched strange men in white coats scour her friend’s house with even stranger equipment, and cursed when she saw the men in black suits shove Sam and Mikeala into a black SUV and his parents in another. She ducked down lower when they drove by, and the second after they had passed, she stood to take off, but she stopped in the nick of time.

Following them would do no good—the people in white would see her and there was no way she could catch up to the vans on foot. She needed help. Particularly fast, strong help. Particularly Autobot help.

Spinning on her heels, she rushed back only to meet them halfway in the backyard. She quickly ushered them back, mentioning there were other humans scanning the area. She didn’t actually know what the scientists were looking for, but she had a pretty good feeling it was for the only unnatural things around here. Whether they would obey her or not, she still kept moving until they were safely hidden in the back alley, out of sight of the scientists.

“They took them! Those guys in black—they took Sam! We have to go help them!” she shouted, but not so loudly that the men in white could hear.

Optimus Prime looked to where the cars on had gone, his expression conflicted, “We… We must get to the Allspark before the Decepticons.

Bumblebee beeped angrily as Catherine glared, “Fuck that! You want the glasses? Then you’ll have to take them from my dead body, because I’m not going to give them to you until Sam is safe! And if I have to go after them on my own, I will! I swear to God I will!”

Optimus frowned, the conflict growing worse, and Bumblebee didn’t help as the yellow Autobot beeped and whirred at his leader, his metal brows contorted with anger. Ironhide rumbled unhappily, but the way he continued to glance after the cars gave Catherine hope that he, too, thought it wasn’t right to leave the young man like that or at least let a chance at action go untaken. Ratchet seemed to be much in the same, and her hope continued to grow.

“She’s right, Prime,” Jazz spoke up from behind Catherine. “We’ve got ta help ‘em. We can’t call ourselves Autobots if we let ‘em get hurt. And I’m pretty sure she ain’t gunna give them glasses up without a fight, too.”

“No one gets left behind,” Bumblebee’s radio rang as he moved to stand beside her and Jazz.

Optimus looked at the three of them and then to his other two warriors whom gave nods. Catherine could tell his urgency to find the Allspark was still strong, but there was another part of him that she knew realized that they couldn’t leave Sam to whatever fate those men planned for him.

“Very well. Autobots, ready your weapons. We’ve got a friend to rescue.”

Catherine’s body flowed with relief, “Thank-you, Prime. I promise you’ll get these glasses once this over.”

The Autobot commander nodded. Without a word he transformed, the others following in suit. Jazz opened his doors for Catherine and she hopped in, beginning to feel the pangs of guilt and regret, but quickly stifled them under determination. She understood that the human race was at stake in regards to finding the Allspark, but, when it came down to it, she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the human race beyond that curly, dark-haired boy. All she’d ever needed was Sam, and if she wasn’t going to let an alien robot take him, then she’d be damned if she let some men in black agency do so!

“Hang on tight, shorty. We goin’ for a ride,” the Autobot warned and she felt the seat belt buckle around her.

She nodded, “Got it. And thanks for backing me up back there. I know it was pretty bad of me to do that, but I… Sam’s my best friend. I can’t leave him like this.”

“Wasn’t a problem at all. O.P. would have ended up goin’ after ‘em anyways. ‘Bee would’ve made him even if ya didn’t, and he’s too carin’ of a bot ta just let any of our comrades behind like that if it can be helped.”

“Well, I’m still glad you were on my side. I don’t think I could have taken on those guys all on my own.”

“Lucky you got us then, yeah?” Jazz chuckled.

“Definitely.”

The conversation ebbed as the convoy of vehicles charged off the paved streets and onto the grass roads, their headlights shutting off to avoid detection. She braced herself against the bumpiness and pointed when she saw the black vehicles driving on the freeway. The Autobots were already well aware, though, and aimed their path towards the convoy. They reached flatter land and sped up again, overtaking the vehicles. She watched as Prime veered off and the others went a little further ahead before pulling to a stop on the side of the freeway. Before she could ask, the blue, red-flamed truck transformed and stepped right in front of the incoming vehicle. The resulting “crunch” made her wince as the others began to roll towards the scene.

Optimus easily grabbed the roof of the car and lifted it up so that gravity took over, ripping the top off for him. By this time the others were closing in and, after letting Catherine out, Jazz joined the others in transforming. She didn’t bother following their discrete path, and continued onward straight for the group of humans instead. She did pause, though, when the agents of the other vehicles pulled out their guns.

“Autobots, relieve them of their weapons,” Optimus Prime commanded, clearly unhappy.

The others acted at once, bounding from the structure situated over the freeway. The agents were effectively surprised and frightened as they retreated backwards from the menacing appearance of Ironhide’s cannons, Ratchet’s chainsaw, Bumblebee’s arm cannon, and Jazz’s general just being there. Catherine couldn’t keep herself from grinning as she vaulted the last divider and watched as the silver Autobot’s hand twisted and the agent's guns were suddenly sucked away, leaving them not only frightened, but defenseless and surrounded. The situation under control, Prime crouched low to face the men in the car, and the black-haired one waved with an uneasy smile.

“Hi there.”

“You don’t seem afraid,” Prime mused, although Catherine would have disagreed when she got to Bumblebee’s feet. “Are you not surprised to see us?”

She wanted to move forward to get Sam, but the yellow Autobot had noticed her and moved his foot so that she knew he meant for her to stay back. She frowned, but her instincts were overruled by the logical part of her brain, so she didn’t question him.

“Look,” the dark-haired man began—the leader of the agents, she guessed, “There are… S Seven protocols, okay? I’m not authorized to communicate with you, except to tell you I can’t communicate with you.”

Not amused, Prime growled, “Get out of the car.”

“Oh, you mean, me, yeah?”

“NOW!”

That was the ticket. Mr. S-Seven Agent started moving, although making smart comments along the way. Sam and Mikeala also finally exited, and Catherine moved towards them regardless if Bumblebee meant to stop her or not.

“Sam!” she cried out, embracing him, and the boy brightened at the sight of her. “Are you okay? Both of you?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh… Yeah, we’re fine,” he replied, but there was a bitterness in his voice when he glanced back at Mikeala, whom had procured a hair pin and proceeded to undue his bindings. “So you’re good with handcuffs now, huh?”

The dark-haired girl looked down, “You weren’t supposed to hear all that Sam.”

“Uh, what?” the redhead couldn’t help, but ask.

“Oh, she just happens to have a ‘juvenile’ record is all,” the boy nearly spat. Catherine raised a brow at Mikeala, and the girl only caught her eyes for a moment before looking at Sam with betrayal and disappointment.

“So?” she said without thinking, and was met with surprise. “You would technically have one too if you’d been caught for that hit and run last year.”

He stumbled on words as he glared, “T-That’s not the same as Grand Theft Auto! Her Dad’s in jail, too!”

“Are you really pulling this right now?” she growled back.

“Pulling what, Catherine? And, y’know, I’d thought you’d have my back on this.”

“I would if you weren’t acting like a child!” she shouted.

“Guys, stop! Please! And just listen, okay?” Mikeala spoke loudly, moving in between them. She gave Catherine a thankful look before turning to the dark-haired boy. “Sam, I have a record because I wouldn’t turn my Dad in. When have you had to sacrifice anything in your perfect little life?”

The words struck home, and any anger or bitterness in Sam vanished as he looked down, ashamed. Catherine, despite herself, smiled a little and found she felt a liking for Mikaela. She had to respect the girl for her actions—she had put loyalty and love above having a clean record, and those were two things she could respect. She still felt bitterness, of course; born from jealousy that wouldn’t be outdone by a few good traits. Especially when those traits made Sam look at Mikaela with an understanding and determination he’d never fully shown to Catherine.

“Who are those guys anyways?” the redhead asked, not wanting to linger in the moment any longer.

Sam blinked and looked over at them, “They said Sector Seven. They’re into… alien stuff, I think.”

“They know about the Autobots. They might know something else,” Mikeala suggested, the cruel look she gave the lead man hinting at something that had gone on in the car. The man was an unfortunate one—already he was being loomed over by the Autobots, and now Catherine was pretty sure they were going to get their two cents in very soon.

“Are you suggesting we interrogate them?” the redhead smiled ever so slightly, a flicker of mischief in her eyes.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Sam spoke firmly and moved before the two girls could reply, his gaze set on the lead Agent. Catherine spared Mikeala a glance before taking after her friend. The man was looking around uneasily at the Autobots—for good reason, considering his position—when Sam reached him at once demanded to know what their organization was. Catherine and Mikeala came up on either side as backup with hard stares. The redhead looked over the man briefly, figuring him the weird kind of type with a whole lot of hubris keeping his chest and head held high. She could tell the others, besides the look-alike next to their head honcho, weren’t nearly as haughty, so she put them out of her mind.

“Answer me!” Sam growled when the man took too long.

“I’m the one who asks questions around here—Not you, young man!” the man shouted back, lunging forward a bit. Catherine intervened, using her hand to press him back with a quick “watch it”. He glared at her with a sneer, which she kindly returned.

“How’d you know about the aliens?” Mikeala asked next.

“Where did you take my parents?” Sam added.

“Where were you planning on taking them?” Catherine finished.

The man looked between the three of them, “I am not at liberty to discuss—hey! You touch me again and that’s a federal offence.”

Were there not five, towering robots around, the agent would have most likely stopped Sam from reaching into his coat to grab his badge, but since he was in that very situation, he let it happen, although with complaint. Not the slightest bit intimidated, Sam held up the badge with the agent’s picture on it.

“Do whatever you want and get away with it badge, right?” he smirked and pulled away to look at it.

Seymour Simmons, Catherine read, but beyond that there wasn’t much else they didn’t already know. She looked back at the man when he noted how they felt so “tough” with their “big alien friends”, and nudged Sam.

“Want me to make him talk? I could make a chicken wing hurt or something,” she murmured, but, while her friend did snicker a little, he shook his head.

“I think that’ll just piss him off,” he replied and then looked back at the agent. “Where’s Sector Seven?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Simmons taunted.

“Offers still on the table,” Catherine hummed, taking her own turn at looking at the card.

“You probably shouldn’t—it’d be a ‘federal offence’,” Mikeala replied, grinning. The redhead first looked up with incredulous surprise and then grinned back a little, too. The unusual moment was interrupted, however, as Bumblebee popped the lid off his crotch area—not that Catherine was actually sure it was a “crotch” since they were an alien species and a robotic one at that—so that it smacked Agent Simmons in the head. The agent frowned, touching the spot, unaware of his impending fate as the yellow Autobot set his hands on his hips proudly. The stream of fluid flowed free, landing right on the agent’s head.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” he cried out, though managed to keep his composure. The three teenagers, however, could not keep from laughing aloud if even for a short moment before they used their hands to cover their mouth. It was unfortunate that Optimus Prime didn’t find it as funny, and ordered the yellow robot to stop “lubricating” on the man. Bumblebee obeyed, innocently raising his arms and beeping something incoherent to the human ears.

“So not only does your car transform, it has a sense of humor,” Mikeala spoke between giggles.

“I got my money’s worth,” he grinned back as he took back the badge from Catherine.

She glanced at the now wet Simmons, “They’re not talking, and I doubt they ever will without some real interrogation, so we’re wasting time here.”

“We can’t just leave, though—they’ll just follow after us,” the dark-haired boy frowned.

“I have an idea,” Mikeala spoke with a devilish smile as she looked over at them. “How about we give them a little payback for earlier?”

“Payback” being that they took all of their handcuffs and had the Autobots help force the group of agents into a line on the side of the road. There, they cuffed each of them to each other and a pole, taking great enjoyment in the dejected faces of the lower agents as they sat down on the curb, defeated. Only Simmons and his look-alike were left standing at the end of the line next to each other, both not yet handcuffed and not betraying any feelings of defeat. The Autobots watched from afar, somewhat bemused, but also a little anxious as the humans worked. Still, they let them be, and watched as Mikeala came up from beyond Agent Simmons.

“Alright tough guy, take it off,” she rumbled, turning to face him with determined confidence.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your clothes. All of it. Off,” she commanded.

“For what?” he barked back.

“For threatening my Dad.”

Simmons faced her stern gaze, the sweat dribbling down his brow, and ultimately lost as Catherine and Sam stepped into line with her, their expressions demanding the same thing, and so he began to remove his coat with anger seething through his every motion.

“Little lady, this is the beginning of the end of your life,” he growled, tossing his jacket and then his tie to the ground. The threat was in vain, the dark-haired girl unfazed. Of course, it was hard to stay that way when the man revealed his superman-style “7” wife-beater underneath his white button shirt. That brought a quick smile to Catherine’s face.

“You’re a criminal,” he continued, undoing his belt. “Let’s face facts. It’s in your gene pool.”

“And I’m guessing being an ass is in yours?” the redhead inquired, his tone beginning to grate on her nerves.

“And who do you think are you, huh? I bet you’re the big honcho with your ‘clean’ record. Not a hint of mischief on you—suspicious I tell ya!” he spat back, pulling off his pants to reveal his “nice”—as Mikeala put it—boxers underneath.

“Wouldn’t you just love to know, Agent Simmons?” she replied, smirking. “Guess the government’s funding is going to a waste on you slackers if you haven’t caught on to my world domination plans.”

“Turn around to face the pole,” Mikeala spoke quickly, cutting the agent off before he could reply. Simmons did as told, while his lackey put his two-piece into the conversation about their actions being a “felony”.

Catherine found it was kind of weird, in way—normally she would have felt some apprehension for their actions, but apparently having five Autobots on one’s side was a big confidence booster. It made committing “felonies” more fun, too. It also made her snicker while her two companions handcuffed the last two agents to the pole. 

“I will hunt you down—all of you,” Simmons spoke in a last ditch intimidation attempt, his lackey echoing his words. “Without any remorse. Okay?”

“Yeah, we hear ya. Buh-bye!” Catherine waved without bothering to turn around, while the three of them approached the Autobots. They had calmed somewhat, their posture less offensive, but the eagerness was still there.

“Thanks, you guys, for coming to get us,” Sam spoke, coming over to stand next to Bumblebee, whom beeped and whirred happily at him.

“We could not leave you to these humans, and Catherine was quite adamant on your rescue,” Optimus Prime replied, glancing over at the redhead, and the two humans followed in suit.

“See? I always got your back, and I guess yours, too, Mikeala,” she grinned, though faltered a little when she turned it onto the dark-haired girl. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she was lying or not. She’d always tried to make a point to not lie unless it was one of those white lies that she would say to keep people from worrying about her, but this wasn’t one of those times. She knew the jealousy was still strong in her, but she could not deny she felt respect for Mikeala. She had done what many others wouldn’t, and she certainly wasn’t the preppy girl Catherine had expected her to be. For that, Catherine chastised herself, knowing she knew better than to follow judgments based merely on appearance.

Mikeala smiled back, a thankful look in her eyes again, and Catherine decided that, for now, she would consider her words genuine and think about it later when there was time for that. Now they needed to focus on the issue at hand, and that meant keeping her end of the bargain.

“Alright, you guys held up your end, so I’m going to hold up mine,” she spoke, looking up at Optimus as she brought the glasses out from her pocket. “Here are the glasses.”

“So you did have them—when do you even take them?” Sam inquired.

“Um… Remember the day of the Lake Party when I was in the kitchen? I picked the—,” her words were caught off as the sounds of sirens and helicopter rotor blades came from the darkness. The three teens spun around only to find another convoy of vehicles speeding towards them with aerial support. The Autobots reacted at once, shifting the semi-circle to a line in front of the humans. There, Ironhide crouched down and raised an arm.

“Optimus, incoming!” he shouted and rammed his cannon into the ground. The impact let off a blast of blue energy that ran through the streets like a wave, straight for the vehicles. It was a direct hit that tore into the wheels, turning them into a show of lights, and sending the vehicles spinning out of the control. The helicopter was unaffected, although slowed cautiously as the wave came near it.

“Autobots, roll out!” Prime shouted, and the robots returned to their vehicles forms except for their commander. The others burned rubber as they took off just as the sound of more helicopter blades reached the humans’ ears. Once his warriors were safely away, Prime knelt down with an open hand to the three teens. “Up you get.”

They clambered on, squished together for a moment before he transferred them to his shoulders. Sam reached first, grabbing onto a piece of armor, while Mikeala went for one of his truck pipes, and Catherine clamped onto a piece of his helmet. When the Autobot began to run, they grasped the metal tighter and onto each other, too, as the jolts were almost strong enough to jar them. They dared not speak as the helicopters came after them, the lights seeming to be able to follow Prime regardless of where he went. Catherine silently wondered why the stupid agents couldn’t just peacefully ask what the Autobots wanted, but then she recalled their actions a few moments ago and thought better of it.

Still, she wished they wouldn’t be so persistent, forcing Prime to take to busier streets and having to avoid cars in the road. The Autobot commander was limber, though, and dodged each obstacle with ease, although crushed the pavement beneath his feet at times. Only one helicopter was on their tail when they turned down another street, and then they lost that one too when Prime shot down an alleyway just barely big enough for him. The light tracing them vanished, but they didn’t dare stay put. Prime continued on, heading straight for a bridge arching over a drainage ditch. There he told them to hang on as he skirted down below the bridge, jumped, and grasped onto the bars supporting it. Just in time, he swung his bottom legs up to brace against another set of bars and avoided the lights of the two helicopters scoping the area.

“Easy you three,” he murmured, and Catherine could have smacked him. Take it easy? It was already difficult hanging onto smooth, shifting metal parts, although she had managed to maneuver onto his neck while Sam and Mikeala leaned partially onto armor pieces and his pipes, but the fear of being caught made it impossible for her heart beat to slow down. How were they supposed to take it easy?

She stifled her thoughts when the helicopters made another run, coming dangerously close with their blades. The gust they brought with them was incredibly, managing to make Optimus jerk, which knocked her forward, but she caught herself thankfully. Mikeala, however, did not, and she fell. She reached out for the closest thing to her, which happened to be Sam. He grabbed at her arm while his other reached for a metal piece of armor, but he couldn’t hold it. It was only Catherine’s hand that kept them from falling for a little bit longer until their combined weight and gravity took over, pulling her with them.

All three screamed as they fell towards a painful, if not fatal, encounter with the ground. Optimus attempted to catch them by swinging his legs down, but they couldn’t grab onto anything. Instead, the impact with his feet jarred them—particularly Catherine, whom hit the front of it with her stomach—and then they kept falling. If there was any good news for them at that point, it was that the fall wouldn’t hurt as much as before, but there was no denying they would break something when they hit.

Their saving grace appeared in the form of a, yellow and black-striped Camaro that transformed and caught them just before they hit the ground. He pulled them close, tucking in his body as his shoulders hit the ground and he skidded. The force knocked his body loose, but he kept them up in the air, safely away from the ground. Only when he completely stopped did he set them down and they were allowed a short flow of relief through them. Short being the imperative word, for the movement had not escaped Sector Seven and before they could thank Bumblebee, the helicopters were surrounding them and arming some kind of spear-hook weapon that made their stomachs drops.

“No! No stop!” both she and Sam shouted, waving their hands, but their cries would have been ignored even if they were heard. Bumblebee was up on his feet by then and placed himself protectively in front of them, prepared to take anything. What he received was the hook wrapping around his arm so that when the helicopter moved, he was forced to turn with it. They watched with despair as more helicopters came and, though they yelled louder and more frantically they were still ignored. Bumblebee’s other hand was caught, and then his leg, then the other, and then he went down.

“Bumblebee!’ Catherine screamed, rushing over to grab at the wires in a fruitless attempt to get them off. Sam followed and made his own go at it, but the bindings were too thick and too tight for her to properly grab. To make matters worse, black vans were coming from both sides. With a sudden accidental jerk, both she and Sam were shoved away and into the ground. The yellow scout whined at them for fear that they were hurt, but if even if they had been they didn’t show as both scrambled up. They weren’t going to get a second chance at trying to help, though, as the cars herded them back to Mikaela and surrounded them with their blinding headlights. Armed soldiers poured from the vehicles, shouting for them to get down with their guns aimed. Reluctantly they obeyed, dropping to their knees, only to have the troops press them down with their arms behind their back, which were then hooked tightly with the soldiers’.

“Look he’s not fighting!” Sam cried out now that they were facing the yellow Autobot again. And he wasn’t—Bumblebee wasn’t even jerking the helicopter to free his arms, which he no doubt could. The soldiers began to crowd around him and still he didn’t fight back, though Catherine desperately wish he had when they began to spray him with some foggy gas. Bumblebee cried out in pain, collapsing, and it only worsened as more soldiers came with more guns. His whines grew louder and Catherine knew she couldn’t just let it keep happening. He wasn’t hurting anyone! He’d only been trying to protect them! Couldn’t they see that? She couldn’t let them hurt him!

“Let go!” she growled, ramming her heel into her captor’s shin. He cried out in pain, losing his grip, which was all she needed to slip out and swing her fist into his crotch. He went down and, with Sam’s urging, she rammed into her friend’s captor, freeing him, too. Not pausing, she raced with Sam to Bumblebee. The dark-haired boy grabbed at one of the soldier’s gun, and she tackled the nearest to wrench away his. They were both quickly brought down by more soldiers, Sam going down easily while Catherine proved a better fight, elbowing her attacker in the face. He wasn’t going to be deterred like the other, though, and he shoved her down forcefully, wringing both arms back painfully.

“No, no no!” she growled as her captor cuffed her hands, preventing any more escapes. She looked to Bumblebee and watched as he reached for them, his cries much weaker than before. She couldn't help noticing the sad, worried, and defeated look in his eyes; it made her choke and try to fight, but the soldiers had her. There was nothing she could do, but still she tried and tried until she and Sam were brought before Agent Simmons, his pants returned and wearing a bullet-proof vest. His hubris had increased tenfold in the smirk he gave them both.

“Happy to see me again?” he all but purred.

“Fuck you!” she snarled.

He regarded them—her for a bit longer—before replying, “Put them in the car with their little criminal friend.”

If she could, Catherine would have gladly socked him right then and there, but the cuffs and the soldier’s grip were too much and she could feel her energy draining. She could only spare Bumblebee a final glance, wishing this hadn’t happened, before she and Sam were shoved into the vehicle. There, she let her head fall against the window, the failure of defeat flooding her with the realization of her own weakness.

I’m sorry, Bumblebee. I’m so, so sorry.

It was only later that she realized the glasses were gone. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 **TMWolf:** _Mmkay, and that's chapter four! Catherine turns out okay, has a potty mouth, and now they're all on their way to the Dam! Oh, and relationships with robots are beginning to form! :) But who is going to be her match? I'll never tell, muwahahaha! It wouldn't be any fun if I did now would it? But do keep the guesses coming- it provides me with fun, too!_

_Aaaand I'm kind of excited to write Simmons. He's actually really funny and writing something he might say that's not in the script is fun! I've also given MIkaela more lines since she actually barely talks in the film._

  
_And if anyone's curious about the Energon "infection", I figured it was basically like blood poisoning, only different. Essentially, the Energon was too acidic/basic so it was corroding her cells and skin from the inside out. The dark veins are the infected blood, of course, and I figured the reason for the slow progression (since it is in her blood) is that it was mostly in the skin more than blood, and her immune system was working against it too, albiet failing. It also made her sick as she tried to fight it. So yeah. That's how it goes. And I figured the antidote worked by adding the acid/base equivalent for Energon to make it essentially pH7 Energon-style, allowing her immune system to clean up any damages and the lymphocytes to eat the dead cells. And I'd say more, but I might spoil something :) think on that ha ha!_

  
_Aaaaaaaand I think that's about it. Fun stuff next time and some character development, yay! Comments and kudos are loved, and let me know what ya think! :D_


	6. Time Is Running Out

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“Catherine, turn around real quick,” Mikeala whispered, poking her from behind Sam. Catherine lifted her head to look at her and then at the other black-suited occupants of the vehicle. They were too busy talking among themselves or their headsets to notice anything so shifted in her seat to where she could lift her arms up. Sam helped by keeping them balanced on his thigh while the dark-haired girl went to work, picking the handcuff’s lock. The red-head was all too happy to bring her hands to her lap and rub her wrists, slightly raw from trying to work against her bonds. She mouthed a quick “thanks” before returning to her previous position.

For almost an hour now they had been driving on the freeway with the convoy of other black cars and a transport truck, but to where exactly was anybody’s guess. Nobody besides their captors probably knew, seeing as everything was “classified”. She only halfheartedly smiled at the thought, knowing they had become just that. Classified. Along with Bumblebee.

She squeezed her eyes shut as if in pain, trying to keep the image of those blue eyes staring at her with such sorrow and pain and despair and, worse of all, forgiveness. She hadn’t realized it at first, but there had been _forgiveness_ in those blue lights. Despite everything happening, he hadn’t blamed them—hadn’t blamed them for falling and getting him into this mess nor the soldiers hurting him with those weird weapons. It was heartbreaking. She knew she wouldn’t have been so forgiving if she were in his place. She would have been furious and hateful, but not Bumblebee. He must have known they were only doing what they’d been trained and told to do for this situation. They were soldiers. He was a soldier. They were just playing their parts, and he happened to be on the shit end of the stick.

But by God he didn’t deserve it. He had _saved_ them! Twice! Of course, those Sector Seven goons didn’t care; he was nothing but an alien—an _object_ to them. He wasn’t that kind, funny, and protective robot who gave himself up to keep them safe, only to have his attempts be in vain. Just like she had. Just like she couldn’t do anything to help him. Just like she wasn’t supposed to be. She should have been able to do something— _anything,_ but she had been powerless; completely and utterly helpless to save him, and nothing she could do could change that. No amount of imagining all the ways she could have done or said something different could change it. He was frozen and on his way to be subjected to all kinds of tortures, and there was nothing she could do.

 _Seems to be a common trait these days,_ she thought bitterly, letting her head fall against the window again. To make matters worse, she had lost the glasses. In the midst of all the running and confusion they had fallen from her pocket. She prayed the others had found them, but she didn’t know, and might never know, yet she retained hope despite how small it was. Still, it didn’t help her bitterness; only increased it. It made her sigh, closing her eyes again to try and block it all out. It didn’t go very well.

“I should have done something more,” Sam spoke softly, his eyes focused on his clenched hands in his lap. Both Catherine and Mikeala looked at him, though while the dark-haired girl grasped his hand gently, the red-head bit onto her tongue, pressed her lips tight, and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

“There was nothing you could do—you or Catherine,” Mikeala replied miserably.

“Still—I—I should have tried harder.”

“ _We_ both should have,” Catherine spoke up, turning to face them now. “But… But there’s nothing we can do now. We just have to believe that… that he’ll be okay.”

“You saw what they did! And that was just to take him down!” the boy returned, loudly at first, but then softened again.

“The Autobots wouldn’t just abandon him like that—they’ll come back. And Bumblebee’s tough, right? I mean, he’s an alien ass-kicking robot, right?” the dark-haired girl smiled, and her words did help lighten the other two’s faces a bit.

“She’s right, Sam. He did kick some ass back at that plant or whatever,” Catherine chuckled a little.

“Yeah…Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, wrapping his fingers around Mikeala’s hand, and looked between then. “He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”

Catherine took his hand, too, and he returned the grip. At another time and place, her heart might have raced at the motion, but now she merely took comfort in it. She needed all the help she could get to quell the doubts she had buried beneath a wall of lies. She needed to believe, like they did—or at least she thought they did—that Bumblebee would be okay; to believe that she hadn’t completely failed; to believe she wasn’t powerless to help him or herself.

“He’ll be okay.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine was surprised to find she had fallen asleep when she was woken up by an arm grabbing and roughly pulling her out from the car. All three of them both stumbled out—the others having fallen asleep, too—but kept their footing before being tugged again. Mikeala soon joined them from the other side, her arm held tight by another black-suited man. All three looked around, and discovered they were at an air hanger in the middle of nowhere. Literally.

As far as the eye could see was the long stretch of runway and then flat grasslands with the sun just barely beginning to peak over the horizon. There weren’t even any trees to speak of, and the only things to look at were four dome-roofed hangers and the two running helicopters they were heading towards. A look back revealed that there was a decidedly large lack of black vehicles compared to what they started out with, and the transport truck holding Bumblebee was gone, too. Panic seized her for a moment, but they weren’t going to give her time to try anything or ask any questions as her holder’s grip tightened while a second hand grabbed her other arm.

The panic turned to anger when she spotted the man at the top of her hate list standing proudly, arms folded behind his back, and a smug smile on his face. His shades kept her from seeing his eyes, but she was sure they were gleaming with the same smugness on his lips. She was tempted to kick him in the groin when she was close enough, but became distracted when she heard Sam shout her name worriedly. She looked and found that while she was still standing in front of Agent Simmons and the closest helicopter, Sam and Mikeala were being taken to the other one. She jerked against her captors’ grips to no avail, growling with frustration.

“No need to get violent again, little girl,” Simmons spoke, waggling his finger at her as if scolding a dog. She scowled, giving him her best glare. “Not enough room for you in that one, so you’ll ride with us. Gives time for us ‘slackers’— as you put it— to get more acquainted with you and those ‘world-domination’ plans.”

“Guess now’s the time to tell you I don’t plan to rule the world—just make yours a living hell?” she countered, not even bothering to grin or smirk, but continue to scowl.

His grin remained, “Well, that’s still something I wouldn’t mind knowing. Put her in.”

She resisted her captors’ a little as they hauled her up into the helicopter where armed guards took over, grabbing her firmly and forcing her into her seat. There they buckled her in, gave her a headset, told her to “stay put”, and this time she listened. There would have been no point in trying; the act wouldn’t do more than annoy Agent Simmons, and she doubt she would have even made it out of the helicopter. It didn’t mean she couldn’t glower at the dark-haired man as he stepped in and buckled up, though. He took it well, quirking a bemused eyebrow at her. She refused to look away first, hardening her gaze, and he became tired of it enough to let his attention stray elsewhere.

 _Just you wait, you asshole. You’ll get yours,_ she silently growled, and waited patiently as the rest of the crew—a few more black-suits—came aboard and buckled up. The good to go was given and she braced herself as the aircraft lifted up slowly, and then they were off. She felt a little uncomfortable with the sides of the craft wide open, the drone of the rotter blades loud in her ear despite the headphones, and the vibrations of the machine all around her. It was nothing like an airplane, and it would have been more tolerable had she not started another staring contest with one Agent Seymour Simmons.

“So how about we get to talking, little lady?” he spoke up, spouting a smooth, but see-through smile. “You’re a smart, reasonable kid. All AP classes with good grades, you play sports, have a clean record, your family has an upper middle class income, and you’re a sure-in to be accepted at any University for college. American Dream going on right here, so let’s be cooperative and not do anything that might make me make some calls and ruin it for you, yeah?”

He took her silence as a cue to continue, “So what’s a kid like you doing with the aliens, huh? They brainwash you? Threaten you? Bribe you? Know what they want? What they’re after? Why’d they come to you? You got something they want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she spat back, suddenly glad she didn’t have the glasses.

“Yes, I would, and I’m going to find out whether you do so willingly or if we have to pry it from that yellow, alien miscreant of yours.”

Her eyes flashed, “Don’t you dare hurt him!”

She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Simmons, on the other hand, made an “oh” face and grinned. She cursed herself; she shouldn’t have let her emotions control her like that.

“Well, maybe you give me a reason why we shouldn’t, and just maybe I’ll make a few calls and spare your little alien friend.”

The thought of possibly saving the yellow Autobot was tempting. More tempting than anything she could ever remember wanting. And it was right there at her fingertips. Yet, she knew she couldn’t just tell him everything. Not only because that would let him win, but because she knew that, despite his words, these goons wouldn’t help the Autobots. They would try to destroy them if they knew what she did regardless if it meant saving mankind. She had to try something, though, and maybe, just maybe, she could play her cards right and get them to realize they needed to trust the Autobots—not make them their enemies.

She looked down, “You’ve got it all wrong. Bu—that _alien_ and his friends are here to _save_ you, not _hurt_ you.”

“Oh? And what makes you think that? And please don’t tell me you’ve got some kind of sweet, sappy feeling telling you, ‘cause that just aint’ gunna cut it here.”

“Well, for one—they’ve saved us _twice_ now. And because... because I trust them.”

“You ‘trust them’?” he asked, incredulous. “She ‘trusts them’! Let me tell you something, junior. I’ve got a hell of a lot more experience with these things than you, and I can tell you they are _not_ to be trusted. They’re out to take what they want from us, using everyone and everything that gets in their way.”

“Not these guys,” she replied, shaking her head. “They want to protect us from the ones that want to hurt us.”

“Kid, they have got you so brainwashed it brings tears to my eyes. What makes you or your little boyfriend or your criminal friend so special? Hmm? You have something they want? Is that why they came for you and brainwashed you into thinking they’re the good guys? Just think about it—who you gunna trust, kid? A strange, alien race you know nothing about, or your own race that’s just looking out for your safety?”

Catherine looked up at him then, staring long and hard; watching him. She expected to find his snarky, smug smile, but instead there was something else. Oh, yes, he was still carrying his cocky odor, but in the midst of it she saw a man who, in all his power, meant to protect his country. He was a soldier fighting a war that he knew, if it came full force, would no doubt meant the end of the human race. His words and means were cruel and his demeanor just as such, but he was a soldier. He had to be if it meant discovering what could save his race, and that included considering all possibilities and all possible enemies as the enemy.

“I understand. I do. Really. You want to keep me, Sam, Mikeala, your family, and the entire human race safe and sound from whatever’s coming, but you need to realize that not all the things coming or that have already come are here to kill us. The one you have frozen and the others—they’re like you. They want to help us. And, yes, I believe that. Not because I’m ‘brainwashed’, but because in the short time I’ve known them, they’ve been more human than pretty much any people I’ve ever encountered in my life.”

He met her gaze for a long moment, “Sit tight, kid. We got about another hour before we get there.”

Simmons looked away, and Catherine felt some relief in knowing that maybe—just maybe, she had helped him understand. Not right now, of course, but eventually he would, and maybe that would be enough to help Bumblebee and the others. That would be enough. It would have to be.

It was all she could do.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“There” turned out to Hoover Dam. _The_ Hoover Dam. After they had landed at a different location, that is, and driven in _more_ black cars. The only upside was that Catherine had been able to make the final part with Sam and Mikeala. She was more than happy to be rid of Simmons’ presence, although he had become pleasantly quiet the remainder of the helicopter ride. Still, she greatly preferred the familiar presence of her friend and the dark-haired girl. They’d been happy to see she was okay, too, and free of any torture scars or something like that. She’d told them what happened as quickly as she could before they were shushed and they decided it was best not to speak just quite yet.

Thankfully the ride wasn’t as long as the other legs of their journey and within twenty minutes they had reached the main road of the bridge. Around them tourists were walking, pointing, and enjoying themselves, completely unaware of what was going or who the group of teens getting out of the important-looking cars were. Catherine couldn’t help but wonder how they couldn’t know, and then realized she could have very easily been one of them.

“Wow,” Sam breathed as they leaned over the side of the bridge, gazing down at the smaller part of the river and the white cement structures that surrounded either side it. Another duo—a large, black man and a white, Aussie girl—joined them and were introduced as Maggie and Glenn. They were essentially in the same boat, so Catherine greeted them warmly. Not much else could be said as the men in black suits guided them along, herding them towards the thin bridge stretching out from the wall. There, Agent Simmons was waiting for them, shades up and arms crossed. She noticed he avoided her gaze, and met Sam’s instead.

“Hey kid,” he began, his tone a little less snarky then before, but still not gaining him any kind looks. “I think we got off to a bad start, huh?”

 _You think_? Catherine almost snorted, but resigned to glancing beyond him at the line of soldiers standing at attention. They seemed a little out of place, but, then again, so did their group. The Agent didn’t seem to notice as he placed a warm hand on Sam’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but wonder if it felt cold to her friend.

“You must be hungry. Want a latte? Ho ho? Double decker? Machiato—“

“Where’s my car?” Sam demanded instead.

A new man, this one also wearing a black suit, but carrying himself with more power and less emotion than Simmons. He was balding, but his thick mustache made up for it. His eyes hid behind dark shades, but there was no hiding the familiar scent of urgency that seemed inbred into everybody these days. Of course, Catherine knew there was good reason for it.

“Son,” the new man spoke, cutting Simmons off. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. People can die here. We need to know everything you know. We need to know it now.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, okay. First, I’ll take my car, my parents. Maybe you should write that down. Oh, and her juvie record. That’s gotta be gone. Like, _forever_.”

Catherine turned to her friend, wide eyed and mouthed opened ever so slightly. Mikeala had a similar expression, but in hers there was a glimpse of affection. She probably didn’t even realize it yet, but the redhead did. There was no mistaking it, and memories of bitterness returned, especially when she realized Sam had not thought to give her anything. Granted, she hadn’t _needed_ anything like Mikeala did, and she wanted to see Bumblebee free, too, and her parents weren’t captured, and it was just selfish thinking, but... but…

“Come with me. We’ll take about your ‘car’,” the new man replied, turning around and heading towards the tower at the other end of the bridge. Sam grinned, looking to Mikeala, then Catherine, whom forced a grin back, and they followed after.

“Man’s an extortionist,” she heard Simmons mumble, and a flicker of agreement passed through the redhead before she banished it as a byproduct of rash actions brought on by her hurt. Instead, she bit her tongue again and kept silent as the man—introducing himself as Tom Banacheck—took them to the elevator that brought them to the lower floor where the river was thinner. They were joined by the soldiers, too, whom took to heading the group with Simmons in the lead, while the three of them held back a little with a final line of soldiers behind them. Strangest of all was their final guest: the Secretary of Defense himself. Now that was a surprise for Catherine, but he was too far up for her to ask him. Not that she really thought she could.

“Alright, here’s the situation,” Agent Simmons spoke as they made it halfway down the white cement path. “You’ve all had direct contact with the N.B.E.s.”

“N.B.E.s?” a black soldier with a red army hat inquired.

“Non-Biological Extraterrestrials. Try and keep up with the acronyms,” he replied, turning them towards a metal door. “That contact has made you qualified to learn a very special secret.”

He didn’t continue on despite the curious looks, and the motley group entered through the opened door into a small, concrete hallway that quickly opened up into a much larger, circular one. At the opening a vast array of machines could be seen, along with moving figures, and lots of steam-like gas pouring out from said machine.

“What you're about to see is totally classified,” Tom Banacheck took over as they came to the end. Were there not a group of soldiers behind her, Catherine would have stopped to gape at what she saw: a towering robot frozen and wearing armor that made him look more monster than robot. She knew at once who it was—despite her sickly state, the image of the robot had been burned into her mind: Megatron. The enemy of the Autobots and the one seeking to destroy their world was being held beneath the Hoover Dam, and they were walking right towards him.

“Sam,” she breathed, tugging his sleeve. “That’s _him_.”

“I know,” was all he managed to say, swallowing a little as the group came to a stop at last. They didn’t feel so out of place as the other soldiers and the secretary of defense gazed up in awe, mouth open.

“Dear God,” the Secretary gasped. “What is this?”

Tom turned to face them, “We think when he made his approach over the North Pole our gravitational field screwed up his telemetry. He crashed in the ice probably a few thousand years ago. We shipped him here to this facility in nineteen thirty-four.”

“We call him N.B.E. One,” Simmons added as they stopped in front of the platform he was situated on, having moved forward out of their initial shock.

“Sir, I don’t mean to correct you on everything you think you know, but that’s Megatron,” Sam spoke, arms folded and shifting uneasily on his feet. Catherine would have done the same, but she kept herself in check, keeping her hands clenched at her sides and watched the robot wearily. She couldn’t really describe the innate fear she felt standing beneath him; The best she could say was it that it was like his eyes were on her, although they looked ahead and were dark and devoid of life. Still, it was there, and, while she couldn’t explain it, she could tame it. She did so enough to keep her cool and keep her mind on the situation as Agent Simmons turned to face Sam with a look of confusion and annoyance mixed together.

“He’s the leader of the Decepticons,” Sam continued, gesturing up at the robot.

“He’s been cryostassis since nineteen thirty-five,” Tom replied, looking to Sam, whom met his gaze. “Your great, great grandfather? He made one of the greatest discoveries in the history of mankind.”

Simmons took his turn, prowling around Sam to prove a point, “Fact is, you're looking at the source of modern age. The microchip; lasers; space flight; cars—all reversed engineered by studying him. N.B.E. _One_. That’s what _we_ call it.”

"And that’s what I call the thing our alien friend is trying to protect you from,” Catherine stated firmly, stepping forward to where he was, almost chest to chest. She glared up at him, making sure he knew what she was talking about. He did, but he wasn’t going to show it, especially not when some of the soldiers had taken some interest in their quarrel.

“And you don’t think the United States military _might_ need to know that you’re keeping a hostile alien robot frozen in the basement?” the Secretary asked loudly, the edge in his voice all-too-evident.

“Until these events we had no credible threat to national security,” Tom replied plainly, as if it was no big deal. If only she could have seemed so calm, but she knew there was no stopping the cold sweat that she got from being in Megatron’s presence.

“Well you got one now!” the Secretary shouted.

One of the soldiers looked up at the robot again, “So why Earth?”

“It’s the Allspark,” Sam replied. Catherine moved to intervene him, but stopped herself in time as she realized they knew enough already to need to know that. And better yet—if they knew what they wanted and that the Autobots needed it to help save the human race, then Bumblebee could be freed.

“Allspark?” the Secretary asked, voicing the question on most everyone’s mind. “What is that?”

“It’s a cube that they’re here for,” the redhead replied, gesturing at Megatron. “The ones on our side are trying to get it before frozen-boy here does.”

“’Cause, y’see, Mr. N.B.E. One here— a.k.a. _Megatron_ , that’s what they call him—is pretty much the harbinger of death who wants to use the Cube to transform human technology to take over the universe,” Sam added. “That’s their plan.”

Simmons raised a brow, “You’re sure about that.”

Sam confirmed with a casual “yeah”, and both the Agent and Tom glanced at each other, a knowing look in their eyes. Catherine, Sam, and Mikaela shared their own knowing look.

“You know where it is, don’t you?” he asked. “It’s here, isn’t it?”

Tom’s eyes flashed over to them, “Follow me.”

The trio exchanged looks before following the suited man towards a different, high-arched hallway. However, instead of the silence she predicted, one of the soldiers—the brown-haired one that had asked why the planet was chosen—came up beside her. He nonchalantly made it seem like he was looking around, but the way he brushed up close to Catherine’s arm suggested otherwise.

“What do you mean by ‘the ones on our side’?” he inquired softly.

She glanced at him, “Not all the ones that came here are here to kill us. Some came to protect us from those that do. And one of them is being experimented on right now.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but Simmons spoke over him, “You're about to see our crown jewel.”

The soldier watched the dark-haired agent for a moment, waiting to see if he would turn around, but he didn’t. The coast clear, he asked, “How many of these good robots are there?”

“Five, including the one here.”

“Five? Good. That outnumbers the bad ones then,” he nodded, a sliver of relief flowing through him.

She glanced worriedly at him, “Wait—how many Decepticons have you seen? Er—the ‘bad ones’.”

“Three included the one behind us. Tell me there aren’t anymore.”

“God, I hope not.”

He increased his pace then, stepping ahead of her to talk to the black soldier that had asked about the N.B.E. acronym. Catherine frowned, wondering exactly how many Deceptions there were on Earth. They had only encountered the police car one and that little tiny, crazy one, but the soldier’s had encountered some, too. The Autobots weren’t outnumbered, were they?

_No, no—don’t think like that. The Allspark is close, so if we can get it to Bumblebee then we’ll be fine._

That had to count for something. She hoped, anyways, and tried to not keep it too close to her mind as they came into a smaller hallway again. This time they came to a stairway leading up to another metal door. The climb was easy, and Simmons opened the door to let them into a small office area. It was oddly cozy with the brown, leather chairs and seven, framed pictures of seven men all surrounding a plaque labeled “the First Seven”. However, what really caught their eyes was what lay behind the clear screen separating them from the next room.

Before their eyes was possibly the largest Cube in the world. There was no doubt it was _the_ Cube, if not because it was inhumanely huge, but because of the strange, _alien_ glyphs on its surface. Furthermore, men in white coats and all their machines were arranged around, on, or attached to it for their experiments. No ordinary cube—regardless of the size—could have warranted such meticulous attention.

“Carbon dating puts the Cube here around ten thousand B.C.,” Tom explained as they all piled in. “The First Seven didn’t find it until nineteen thirteen. They knew it was alien because of the matching hyroglyphics on the Cube as well as N.B.E. One. President Hoover had the dam built around it; four football fields thick of concrete—a perfect way to hide its energy from being detected by anyone or any alien species on the outside.”

“And you thought putting Megatron within _walking_ distance of the Cube was a _good_ idea?” Mikaela asked, shaking her head.

“We didn’t realize there was an issue until now, and we keep N.B.E. One under careful watch and in cryostassis,” Tom replied with a nod. Catherine was pleased to note he didn’t speak with a condescending tone unlike somebody else. Granted, she had a feeling he had some hubris in him, but he was a diplomat—he hid it well. Still, Mikeala had a point, and Tom had a reasonable reason, but they needed to get the Cube out of here and into Autobot hands.

 _Whoa—what was that?_ She wondered, noticing the small sparks coming off the Cube for a split moment. It had been like lightning. Had she blinked and not been looking at that spot, she would have missed it. She didn’t, though, and she was sure she had seen lightning. She asked the other two if they had seen it, but they shook their heads and figured it was just the machines. She frowned, but supposed that could be a possibility, so let it be.

“Wait,” Maggie suddenly asking as she peered at the Cube. “You said the dam hides the Cube’s energy. What kind exactly?”

“Good question.”

A good question indeed, and the answer to which they discovered after another tour through the Dam to an extremely secure and out-of-the-way area. They refrained from asking questions as they entered the room where an Asian man stood ready at attention while men in white suits stood working at the side. It was a small room, although bigger than the office, but hardly as lavished. There were no leather or even plastic seats to be seen; just machines all aligned with some cardboard boxes along the walls where wires tumbled down from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a clear-window container with metal top, bottom, and rims and lit in a blue-white light that reminded her of the Autobot’s eyes. She found the similarity uncanny and wary. Even more worrisome was the grimy state of the room and the ominous claw marks dug into the metal walls—as if some monster had taken its anger out on the surface.

“Please step inside,” Tom urged the ones lagging. “They have to lock us in.”

Catherine felt her “danger” sense tingle, and it only got worse as the Asian man stepped out and, just as Tom said, locked them in. Glenn and the black soldier only made it worse as they commented on the claw marks, noting how they were either from Freddy Kruger or Wolverine. Wolverine was okay, but Freddy Kruger? _Really_? She did not need to think the room had a serial, dream-invading killer in it. Thankfully, she wasn’t the only not amused by Glenn’s banter.

“That’s very funny,” Simmons noted, deadpan, and let his tone sink in before glancing around. “Anybody have any mechanical devices? Blackberry? Key alarms? Cellphones?”

“I got a Nokia,” the black comedian offered and tossed it to the agent. Without another word, Simmons stepped around the box and opened up a panel in the back to place the phone in the center of the box, right underneath the laser poking out from the ceiling. The rest of them took the goggles the other men in the room provided, which suited a mad scientist better than their strange group.

“Ooh, Nokias are really nasty. You gotta respect the Japanese. They know the way of the samurai,” he murmured as he did so.

“Nokias are from Finland,” Maggie whispered, but only received a raised eyebrow from Catherine standing beside the Secretary of Defense, whom hushed her. He also noted on Simmon’s strangeness, which the redhead wholly agreed to. Talk ended as the process began, the laser jutting down from the ceiling and then bringing the point down to the phone’s keypad.

“We were able to take the Cube’s radiation and funnel it into the box,” Simmons spoke, moving away to flip switches. Not a moment later, a blue, lightning bolt-like came through the laser and the box was suddenly flashing brightly. Were they not wearing the goggles, they would have been blinded for sure. Two more flashes occurred and then the laser pulled away just as the phone _moved_. It vibrated rapidly and then, emitting a noise, it transformed. The damn phone _transformed_.

 _Oh my God. It’s their source of life. The Cube is their source of life!_ Catherine thought, gasping aloud and lurching back as the phone burst to life as a crab-like robot. Granted, she had expected something amazing or horrifying from what Optimus had told them about Megatron’s plans, but not _this_. She figured maybe the electronics would be turned into dangerous weapons, but not _living_ alien creatures. She didn’t dare imagine what Megatron could do if he turned all of Earth’s electronics into something like the little Nokia creature. This was one was violent enough—ramming into the box’s glass panes as if trying to get at them. As if trying to kill them.

“Nasty little sucker, huh?” Simmons purred as he stalked around.

“That thing is freaky!” Maggie cried out.

“Kinda like the iddy-biddy Energizer Bunny from hell, huh?”

Catherine couldn’t help but agree, and, yet, at the same time, she didn’t. It was acting freaky, yes, but so did most creatures that were suddenly woken or brought to life in a tiny, closed container surrounded by large, strange beings watching it. It could’ve very well been just trying to pry its way out and escape from them—beings it couldn’t understand or know what they wanted of it. It would be reasonable to assume they meant it harm, and surely they did as it kept up its antics, transforming one of its shoulders into a miniature bazooka and its abdomen into a machine gun. The bullets made imprints, but couldn’t make it all the way through, which they were glad for. The bazooka shot didn’t do much besides cracking it, but that could very easily become enough.

“Oh, It’s breakin’ the box,” Simmons sighed, a sentiment with Tom shared. And then, squeezing his finger on a trigger, the box flashed and the same force that brought it to life fried the little thing. Catherine’s eyes widened, more so because they has so easily killed it without remorse. She looked to Simmons, wondering if he had even thought it might have had some intelligence and was capable of interacting with them, or was it no more than a wild animal for him to display and kill as he pleased? Did he—and this entire organization—think they were a God? It made the bile rise in her throat and her pity for the creature grow.

“That wasn’t right,” she murmured, pulling off her goggles as she shook her head. She tossed them aside as she gazed at the scorched corpse. The Allspark wasn’t meant to be held in the hands of humans. They needed to get it to the Autobots. Only they would know how to properly use it.

“Sam— ” she began, walking towards her friend, but stopped as the ceiling shook and the lights flickered. The cold touch of fear gripped her, and she shared the same expression with Sam and Mikeala.

“Gentlemen, I think they know the Cube is here,” the Secretary spoke.

Tom pushed a button on a computer, “Banacheck. What’s going on?”

 _“The N.B.One hanger has lost power and the backup generator is just not going to cut it!”_ the worker on the other line replied, his voice shaking.

“WHAT?!” Tom howled, and looked up to find the brown-haired soldier Catherine had talked to rushing beside him.

“Do you have an arms room?”

He nodded once and then they were rushing out as the door was unlocked. There was no brisk walking; the group was running after Tom Banaceck through the halls back to the lower floors where he all but screamed for everyone to get to the N.B. One chamber. Workers reacted at once, dropping what they were working and taking off as per ordered. Tom led their group elsewhere, though, charging through a smaller hall into a room fitted with what looked like the latest in weapon technology. Vehicles lined the room with soldiers already clad in armor, along with cargo boxes that had weapons already laid out. Their group of soldiers rushed over at once, arming themselves as quickly as possible. As they did so, the walls shook and the lights flickered again.

“Sam, we’ve got to get to Bumblebee. We’ve got to give him the Allspark,” Catherine stated, gripping her friend’s arms. “We have to get it out of here before Megatron wakes up.”

He nodded and rushed over to Simmons, “You gotta take us to my car. You _have_ to us to my car. He’s going to know what to do with the Cube.’”

“The car?” Simmons began, his snide tone coming out in his panicked motions as he shook his head. “It’s confiscated.”

“Then unconfiscate it,” the young man replied.

“We do _not_ know what will happen if we let it near this thing!”

“We do know! _Bumblebee_ will get the Allspark out of here and protect us—that’s what he’ll do!” Catherine shouted, grabbing the gun in Simmon’s hand and slamming it down.

“Maybe _you_ know, but _I_ don’t know,” he replied back quickly, attempting to pry the gun from her grip.

“So you just want to sit here and see what happens?” Sam spoke again.

“I have peoples’ lives at stake here, you two!” he growled, jabbing a finger at them.

“And if you want to save them you have to trust him!” the redhead growled.

“You listen here, little girl,” he barked back, using both hands to rip the gun from her grip, only to have the same soldier she’d talk to suddenly grab Simmons and ram him into the bumper of the vehicle behind him. At once, guns were out, aimed at him, but he had his own pistol aimed for the nearest soldier. His buddies took aim as well, pointing their weapons at any dark clad soldier threatening their comrade. It went to blows as two soldiers elbowed and sacked some of the soldiers, effectively taking command.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Tom called out, raising his hands, but no one was putting their guns downs.

“Drop your weapon, soldier,” Simmons spoke carefully, and then continued loudly, “There’s an alien war going on, and you’re going to shoot me?”

“You’re making it harder than it has to be,” the soldier spoke, briefly looking over at his captive.

Simmons glared despite his fear, “I’m ordering you under S-Seven executive jurisdiction!”

“S-Seven don’t exist,” the black soldier, whom liked Freddy Kruger replied.

His comrade nodded, “Right. We don’t take orders from people who don’t exist.”

“I’m going to count to five—“

“I’m going to count to _three_ ,” the soldier interrupted, pointing his pistol at Simmons now. They stared each other down, the soldier determined and willing to shoot the snide man in the heart, while the agent remained determined to prove himself the top dog. The Secretary of Defense came to his aid.

“Simmons?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’d do what he says. Losing’s not really an option for these guys.”

The agent glanced between the Secretary and his potential killer, “Alright. Okay. Hey-- you wanna lay the fate of the world on the kid’s Camaro? That’s cool.”

And that was that. Simmons told them to follow him out, which they did once they were fully armed. Catherine took that time to thank the soldier, whom she finally learned was called Will Lennox. He told her he was only doing what he thought was right, and she noted he believed her then. He stated he did, and he was getting tired of the asshole’s attitude, too. Her smile only lasted briefly as they finished suiting up and they took off. She ran beside Sam and Mikeala, giving him a comforting look and happy smile. Bumblebee was going to be freed!

The happiness was only temporary, however, as the moment they entered the room it turned to horror and rage. It took everything to keep her from socking the workers in the face as Bumblebee’s pained cries reached her ears and she saw his yellow form restrained to the experiment table, dowsed by the gas. She wasted no time in joining the others in stopping the soldiers from spraying and experimenting on him, and, thankfully, they obeyed. They let him go, and the yellow Autobot rose weakly, at first.

“You okay?” Sam asked, and the Autobot looked over at him, his blue eyes still kind and as forgiving as they had been before. Although, now they glowed with happiness at the sight of them unharmed. Again, Catherine’s heart ached to see them like that, and she did not blame him for pulling down his battle mask and activating his arm cannon as he lifted a bit more.

“Listen to me. The Cube is here and the Decepticons are coming,” Sam spoke quickly, and Bumblebee pushed himself off the table, though kept his arm cannon hot. “No, no, don’t worry about them. You’re okay, right? They’re not going to hurt you. Just back up a little bit.”

Catherine noticed the uneasy looks behind her, “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you, either. He’s just still a little freaked out. Just lower your weapons, okay?”

Lennox glanced at her and reluctantly followed her suggestion. The others followed him in turn, and, with more urging from Sam, Bumblebee sheathed his weapons, too. When at last the feeling that a firefight was about to break out was gone, they headed out again, this time towards the Allspark chamber. They didn’t come to the small office room, though, but rather came through another way straight to the Cube. It was even more breathtaking up close. Even Bumblebee seemed to hold it in awe as he followed them over and stood beneath it, his eyes wide and his movement slow; reverent. Carefully, he reached his metal hands up and touched the Cube.

It sparked and flashed at his touch, sending a blue wave went through it that outlined the cube in numerous, square shapes. Bumblebee shifted his hands to a corner and, right before their eyes, the Cube began to shift and change. It wasn’t exactly a transformation, but it might as well have been as the artifact folded in on itself in a way that defied all logic and physics until it was small enough to fit into the Autobot’s hand.

 _“Message from Starfleet, Captain. We must get to it,”_ his radio chimed.

“He’s right,” Lennox spoke, stepping down from his spot. “If we stay here, we’re screwed with Megatron in the other hanger. Mission City is twenty-two miles away. We’re going to sneak that Cube outta here and we’re going to hide it somewhere in the city, but we cannot make a stand without the Air Force.”

“This place must have some kind of radio link—short wave!” the Secretary of Defense gasped, and Simmons confirmed.

“Sir, you’ve got to figure out some way to get word out to them,” Lennox stated and turned to his soldiers. “Let’s move.”

Distracted by the soldier’s words and till in awe from before, Catherine was at first too shocked to accept the Cube when Bumblebee lowered it to her. She blinked once and then took it, only to nearly drop it as it sent a shock up her right arm, leaving a tingling sensation where her scar was. She kept hold of the artifact, though, figuring it was just an aftermath from the transformation, and the Autobot stepped back to transform.

“Hey Sam, Catherine, girl! Get in the car!” Lennox shouted from behind. She looked back to nod and them rushed with her friend and Mikeala over to the yellow, black-striped Camaro. The redhead shuffled into the back, being first to reach Bumblebee, and held the Cube tight in her arms once she put her seatbelt on.

“You got it? Is it good?” Sam asked as the Autobot took off.

“Yeah, it’s good. I got it!” she replied quickly, barely noticing the continuing tingle through her arms. The Autobot dove hard and fast, and Lennox and his men were close behind in their own vehicles as they came out form the tunnel and onto the main bridge road. Their speed increased as they left the area onto the main road until they found the surprise of their life coming right for them: the oddest convoy of vehicles they had ever seen. One she, Mikeala, and Sam knew very well.

“Oh my God! It’s Optimus and the others!” Sam exclaimed, and they watched as all four vehicles pulled an incredible drift turn to line up behind the rest of the vehicles. Catherine couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of them.

Bumblebee was free. They had the Allspark. The Autobots had found them. Yes, Megatron was undoubtedly awake now and the Decepticons were attacking, but they were on the move, too, and they have five Autobot warriors on their side, ready to fight for them. Now, all they needed was time. Time that, unfortunately, they were running out of.

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**TMWolf** _: And who just tied in the last line of the story with the chapter title? This chick. And I'm being silly about that._

_Holy crap it was actually really difficult/annoying to try and get more people to talk in this stupid scene! It's literally just Sam and Simmons having a macho fight while Tom explains everything! No one else really talks, including Mikeala who's been silent for nearly thirty minutes of movie. Oi! So I made other characters talk here and there. Take that Micheal Bay's writers! Dialogue!_

_And yeah, so that's chapter 5. One more chapter until the first movie is done and then it's time for the two-years in between chapters! Much more freedom there, and lots of stuff is going to happen. Lots._


	7. Save the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapters is by Swedish House Mafia - Save the World (skrillex remix). It's a good dubstep remix of that awesome song! I recommend listening :)

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“So, um, I was thinking about Lennox’s plan,” Catherine spoke up, about five minutes into the ride. Sam and Mikeala, not needing to watch the road seeing as Bumblebee did the driving for them, turned back towards her. “And, uh, how the _hell_ are we supposed to keep it hidden from the Decepticons in a city? It took four football fields of concrete to hide it in Hoover Dam!”

She could have sworn she saw her friend pale a little, and even Mikeala bit her lip, eyebrows scrunching together, as she, too, realized the problem. Maybe bringing the fact up right at that moment wasn’t the best idea, but she couldn’t help it. As soon as the other Autobots had fallen in line, her mind had quickly run through the events that might go down and she suddenly realized how trying to hide the ancient Cube sitting her lap--which still refusing to stop making her skin tingle-- was, well, silly. Surely the Decepticons could find it in a city out in the open if it took such great amounts of material to hide it for so long. She’d never been to the place herself, but she was pretty sure there wasn’t anything like Hoover Dam’s walls there.

“I mean, I know it was kind of just quick thinking on Lennox’s part, but, still,” she added. “And shouldn’t we just leave it with the Autobots? You guys were looking for it and now you have it, so what’s the plan, ‘Bee?”

 _“Danger, Will Robinson! Look a distraction! And it’s outta here!”_ his radio replied.

“Distract the Decepticons long enough to sneak it out?” the redhead suggested and received an emphatic “yes”.

“It makes sense—fight the bad guys, sneak the Cube out of their reach, and then finish them off before retrieving it again,” Mikeala nodded.

“Yeah, but who are we giving it to?” Sam asked.

" _There’s strong, and then there’s Army strong.”_

“I just hope the army’s going to be enough then,” Catherine mused, clutching the Allspark tighter.

 _“Don’t stop believing!”_ Bumblebee sang, and the three couldn’t help but chuckly lightly despite their dire situation. Catherine let it go then, not wanting to worry the others anymore, and really wanting to believe he was right. The three of them could barely take on Frenzy until they caught the little bugger off guard with a weapon and decapitated him. Could they honestly take on a full-sized Decepticons? And what if they were outnumbered? The possibility had been lingering in her thoughts ever since Lennox had mentioned his tally of the enemy. Already the ‘Cons had three or four—only two more and the Autobots would have a matched fight. Hell, it may as well as have been even with Megatron, who had to count for at least two!

 _No. No. Calm down. You’ve got Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Jazz, Ratchet, and Bumblebee. These guys kick ass!_ She told herself quickly and let her fingers trace the Allspark’s hieroglyphics to keep some part of her mind busy. The Army was on their side, as well—that had to count for something, and Lennox has said something about the Air Force. They could do something, right? And hadn’t they shouted about some special ammo when getting their weapons together? If the human soldiers could harm the enemy, then their chances were rising.

They just had to make sure the Allspark stayed out the bad guys’ hands. Claws. Whatever they had. They just had to do that.

_How hard could that be?_

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**-O-**

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Evidently, it was going to be very hard.

Barely four miles outside the city and trouble started to brew on the highway. At first they thought the sirens were a good sign, seeing as a police escort would do well to clear some more traffic, but then they looked out the window and saw it wasn’t just any police car tailing them—it was the one that could transform into a robot. There was also what looked like tanned army-style construction vehicle with a shovel-rake in the front. Normally the sight wouldn’t be so alarming, but the fact it was paired with the death-cop car and was swerving back and forth, forcing other cars violently off the road, the three passengers in Bumblebee began to worry. It only became worse when the vehicle started using the shovel-rake to lift and _throw_ vehicles out of the way.

At that point, Catherine was pretty damn sure there wasn’t a human driving the vehicle.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Sam groaned as he finally spotted the source of the sirens swerving around vehicles towards them.

“What?” Mikeala asked, trying to peer over him as he shifted away from his side.

“It’s the same cop from before! Block him, block him, block him!”

As if hearing his call, Ironhide and Ratchet pulled ahead of Optimus and closed the space between them as they sped up, while the red-flamed truck pushed hard on the breaks. Hot on their tails, the army construction vehicle moved the shovel back and then shifted outward, forming arms and legs and a head. It carved up the street with its claws as it did so, and then did the same with its feet before skating on its wheels straight for Prime. Of course Optimus wasn’t going to let the Decepticon scum show him up, and he put on his brakes again, harder this time, to start shifting. With careful ease, he leaped into the air and avoided the cars as he skidded to a halt in order to turn and face his incoming opponent.

Catherine gasped, cursed, and cringed as she watched the tanned Decepticon skate down the street, ramming through a bus and causing it to explode. She prayed there was no one in there, because they were probably dead or going to be. And, of course, the Decepticon kept on going, tackling Optimus Prime just as the Autobot turned around. They tumbled towards the ramp, once, twice, and then broke through the edge on the third roll, falling down to the streets below. That was the last she saw of Prime as Bumblebee continued on with Ratchet, Ironhide, and Jazz right behind.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Sam breathed, clutching at the leather beneath him.

“Calm down, Sam—we’re almost there!” Mikeala spoke, gripping his shoulders. The motion calmed him a little, but he still clung to the seat and his eyes were still wide.

“Look!” Catherine cried out, pointing through ‘Bee’s back window. “The cop robot is leaving!”

Sure enough, the cop car veered off to the feeder roads. Where it could be going she didn’t know for sure, but regardless of where it was, the robot was bound to be up to no good. However, that wasn’t their priority as Bumblebee went off the highway too, turning in towards the city. Lennox’s vehicles were right behind and, luckily, the people could see them and moved out the way, making it all the easier to get through the streets. They turned a few corners and went down a few blocks before stopping near a pawn shop. That was only a pause, though, as Lennox and his team acquired short-wave radios for communication, and they were off again.

They were off again, although their pace was incredibly slowed as they came across a small traffic jam. That was through with soon enough and when a jet zoomed by overhead the convoy was called to a halt, parking themselves in the middle of the street. There, Bumblebee finally let them out and the three teenagers stayed close together, Catherine keeping the Cube tucked tight under her arm.

“Air Force has arrived!” Lennox shouted to the men as they piled out or stayed on the mounted guns. “Pop smoke!”

“Raptor, raptor. Do you copy?” the black soldier with the red hat asked into the radio, the jet zooming overhead again. “We have visual. Green smoke is the mark. Provide air cover and vector black hawks for extraction.”

“Extraction?” Catherine asked aloud, and the black soldier looked over at her.

“Yeah, we’re gettin’ that thing airlifted out of here,” he replied simply, and she frowned. The thought of the U.S. government in their hands again did not sit well with her. They might not give it back to its rightful owners and proper users. However, there was no time to make a complaint as the same jet made another fly by. As before, this didn’t worry them. That is, until Ironhide suddenly transformed.

“It’s Starscream!” he roared and turned around to wave the others away. “Back up! Take cover! Bumblebee, help me with this!”

The yellow Autobot was by the black robot’s side in an instance while Ratchet and Jazz retreated with the army vehicles and soldiers. The two robots went after the best and nearest form of defense they could find, which so happened to be a truck advertising Furbys, and lifted it up to act as a shield. Hope plummeted as people began to run, screaming, and Lennox’s shouts for them to move didn’t help. Catherine wasted no time in pushing both Sam and Mikeala back, the two as confused as the rest. Ratchet and Jazz transformed as they passed, standing protectively in front of the motley group.

The jet appeared and so did its missiles. They came in hard and fast, ramming into the street right In front of the truck and then beside the truck—right where Bumblebee was standing. The explosion sent both robots flying while the truck blew up in a glorious blaze. The humans weren’t left unscathed either; the explosion sending them flying when a missile came too close. Lennox and his team were thrown to the ground, sprayed with asphalt, as were Sam, Mikeala, and Catherine. The redhead attempted to keep hold of the Allspark, but it fell from her hands and rolled away as the impact jarred her senses. They were saved from the worst of the debris by Ratchet and Jazz, thankfully, and regained their senses quickly enough.

Catherine rose slowly, as if time had slowed, while her brain took in everything around her. She saw Sam and Mikeala for a moment, their hands reaching out to each other, as if making sure they were alive, and then she turned towards the other soldiers, their faces blackened as they moved from under the rubble. She barely registered the shouts of one of the soldiers asking if anyone was hurt. She didn’t answer, her voice still not working, while she looked at Jazz and Ratchet as they rose up, having been pushed to their knees. She staggered up then, stumbling a little, and reached out to steady herself. Jazz’s leg was there, and she used it for a brace while time began to speed up.

“You okay, shorty?” she heard Jazz ask, but only nodded dumbly as she continued her survey. And then a familiar whine caught her attention, and both she and Sam looked over at Bumblebee at the same time.

“Oh my God!” Sam shouted as he scrambled over the yellow mech. “Bumblebee! Your legs!”

“No, no,” Catherine breathed, pushing off Jazz’s leg to go over as well. The silver mech followed close by, but the young man ordered them both back. When the redhead refused he used his hands to urge her out of the way, as he followed the yellow Autobot’s crawl. Jazz moved to help his comrade, but the yellow robot whined something up at him, and he backed off a little ways.

“Bumblebee, please! Get up, Bumblebee!” Sam cried out desperately. “Ratchet!”

The medic, having been tending to Ironhide whom had been closer to him, turned and uttered a curse. Ironhide was up on his feet now, so the medic left him be as he hurried over and began to scoot Sam away, but the yellow mech again whined the same noise and Ratchet paused. A similar sound came from the medic and he moved forward again, only for Bumblebee to shove his hand away, determined to follow through with whatever was on his mind. A growl came from the medic as he moved to shout something back, but everyone was distracted as the wall of a nearby building exploded.

Ducking quickly, they spotted the attacker soon enough: a tank in the middle of the road, which fired another shot. Thankfully, its aim wasn’t the best and it struck the piles of broken street and building the soldiers had taken shelter behind. Luckier still, the vehicles trying to flee along the road swerved and avoided fatal blows. The tank started moving then, continue to fire as it rolled over parked vehicles.

"Not on my watch, slagger!” Jazz growled, racing forward to make a transforming leap. Ratchet followed a similar motion while shouting for ‘Bee to stay put. Tires squealed on the road as they raced towards the tank, dodging fire as they did so. The soldiers were moving, too, not wanting to stay within firing range of the thing. Sam and Mikeala had yet to move, though, refusing to leave Bumblebee’s side as he continued to crawl. Sam didn’t push them back this time as he watched with sorrow. Seeing everyone was moving, Catherine attempted to move him, too, but he wouldn’t budge. Mikeala had also tried much the same, but she gave up and, running a hand through her hair, looked for some way to help. Her eyes fell on an abandoned tow truck across the street. Pausing only for a second, she rushed over.

Catherine, on the other hand, noticed what ‘Bee’s eyes were staring at beyond them: the Allspark she had dropped. Nodding at him, she sprinted over, picked it up, felt the tingle run through her arm, and rushed back. The Autobot’s eyes brightened as she held it out to him. He gave her a thankful whine as he grasped it gingerly in his four digits. To her surprise, he didn’t keep it, but held it out to Sam, whom took it. He stared at it, confused, and looked between it and the Autobot, whose eyes told more than words could.

“No… No… I’m not going to leave you! Not again!” he shouted, though kept the Allspark close. Bumblebee whined, as if to say he understood, and then looked at Catherine, pleading. She nodded, knowing again what he wanted.

“Sam,” she called out firmly, grapping his shoulder. “We can’t stay here.”

He turned to her, eyes wide and disbelieving, and opened his mouth to say no, but the explosion from down the street distracted him. They looked in time to watch Ironhide transform, throwing himself into the air, firing his cannons into the ground to vault himself over the tank’s fire, and then go into a diving roll to dodge the next one. Jazz was next, his sleek, silver form having had to go the long way around to avoid people and fire. He transformed, skidding along the pavement and leaped up and onto the tank’s top. With a quick jerk, he moved the turret to divert the fire, and then clung to it as the vehicle transformed into a Decepticon. With a good kick he broke a shoulder missile launcher before his arm was grabbed and he was thrown off.

Backup was on the way, though, and the form of Ironhide firing his own arsenal while Ratchet came from the other side, his arm transformed into a chainsaw that sliced clean through the Decepticon tank’s arm with a glorious show of acrobatics. The human soldiers weren’t to be outdone, though, and began firing their flaming rounds, all which struck home. With the combined force of Autobot and human fire, the Decepticon was shot down, crashing into the nearby building.

“C’mon, Sam. We’ve got to move! They’re after the Allspark, remember?” Catherine began again, shaking him.

“B-but ‘Bee—he’s,” he choked, looking at the Autobot just as he winced in pain.

“I know, Sam, but he wants you to finish this. He wants you to keep it safe!” she shouted back.

“It’s Megatron! Retreat! Move! Fall back” Ratchet shouted, and both teens looked with horror as the Decepticon leader emerged from an alleyway. Humans screamed and ran as the Autobots pulled back, except for Jazz. Catherine felt her heart skip a beat as she watched him stand defiantly before the monster, his shield raised to protect himself and those behind him. He might as well as have been a bug before the Decepticon commander, who threw him back with a single blast. Things began to go to hell then.

Megatron proceeded to blow up anything and everything he saw fit. That included human and Autobot alike. Lennox and his team did their best to herd the people away, stopping their cars and shouting for them to run. The pedestrians didn’t need to be told twice, taking off at full sprints as they screamed. The Autobots did their part, too, performing hit-and-run tactics, narrowly avoiding fatal attacks.

In the midst it of all, Mikeala did the unthinkable: she pulled up in a tow-truck right next to Sam and Catherine, hopped out, and asked them to help, her fear hidden behind a determined exterior. The redhead nodded and started moving at once, while Sam took a bit longer to regain himself. He set the Cube on the tow truck’s bed to help grab the cords and wrap them around Bumblebee. They wrapped chains, too, and were almost through when Lennox and some of his troops came sprinting over, shouting out for them and the Cube. Sam pointed, but it was only regarded for a split second before the man rushed by and scouted the buildings. After a few precious moments and a few more close shots, he rushed back to Sam and set his gun on the cover of the tow truck’s wheel.

“Alright, I can’t leave my guys back there so here, take this flare,” Lennox spoke, handing the item to the surprised young teen. “There’s a tall, white building with statues on it on top. Go to the roof, set the flare, signal the choppers—“

“No, I can’t do this!” Sam shouted, but the soldier would have none of it as he suddenly grabbed Sam’s jacket and pulled him close.

“Listen to me! You’re a soldier now! Alright? I need you to take this Cube, get it into military hands while we hold them off! Or a lot of people are going to die!” he hollered back, and then turned to Mikeala. “You gotta go, girl. You gotta go!”

“No! I’m not leaving!” she replied, but he kept moving her, repeating his command. “No! I’m not leaving until I get Bumblebee out of here! Okay?” 

Lennox let her go, and as she moved to the truck Catherine felt her respect for the girl grow a little more. Then she looked to Sam, whom had stepped off the tow truck near her, staring at the Cube in his hands and then the path to the building. She could see him swallow hard and could see his body shake. She knew she was shaking, too. She couldn’t deny she was scared—Hell, she was about ready to shit her pants, but now wasn’t the time. The fate of their world was at stake, and they couldn't afford to freeze up. Not here. Not now. Not while her friends put their lives on the line.

She looked back towards where the other Autobots had been fighting, and saw them still doing so, firing their rounds at Megatron who looked to be merely playing with them. He was like Death itself standing in the street, the Autobots' blasts seeming to barely nick his armor, while his own did immense damage. If he got his claws on this Cube… Well, she didn’t really want to think about it. She didn’t want to have to endure it, either. But she wasn’t the one to take the Cube. It was Sam. Bumblebee and Lennox and, hell, maybe fate had chosen him to take it this battle, but she would be damned if she didn’t play a part.

Determination blazing, she jumped down from the tow truck’s bed and came up to Sam’s side. She gripped his shoulder tightly, but warmly, and he looked over to find the same determination she felt shining bright in her eyes. She simply nodded at him, both knowing what she meant without speaking a single word. She had his back, and he knew it. She believed in him, and he knew it. He could do this, and both she and he knew it. He nodded back, gripping her hand tight. She let go then, and turned to Lennox.

She grasped his arm, gaining his attention, “Give me a gun.”

“What? No! Go with your friend and get out of here! This is no place for you!” he shouted back, turning her towards the tow truck.

“No, Lennox!” she growled, shoving his arms away and turning back around. “Maybe a few days ago this wasn’t the place for me, but now it is! My friends are putting their lives on the line—Mikeala is risking herself getting ‘Bee to safety, the Autobots are fighting the harbinger of Death, and Sam is about to go through one hell of a gauntlet! I am _not_ just going to sit back and let them die without trying. I know I might die—Hell, my chances are off the charts, but I know for a fact I _will_ die if Megatron wins. I know I’m not a soldier, but I know how to use a gun, and if one shot I fire can make a difference between letting these monsters win and saving the world, then I’m willing to take those chances!”

The brown-haired soldier stared at her for what felt like forever, watching her eyes as they stayed blazing, although her heart was racing at a million miles per hour. Truth be told, she was terrified as she stood there before him. She’d faced the fear of death before, but that was nothing compared to this. There hadn’t been people screaming and dying and everything going to the pits, but still—but still! She wasn’t going to let it stop her. She wasn’t going to be powerless. Not this time.

“Alright,” he said at last and, spotting a lost saber launcher on the ground, picked it up and shoved it into her hand. “We’re going to cover Sam. Stay close and do as I say. If you get left behind, I can’t promise I can come back for you.”

She hefted it, testing the weight, and found it comfortable, “Got it.”

She found it was like holding a shotgun, only differently shaped and a bit heavier. It would do, though, and she would go with whatever happened. She took a small respite to look at Sam again, whom was with Mikeala. The dark-haired girl had his jacket held tight in her hands, and from his eyes, she knew they were growing closer. This time her heart didn’t ache so much; it knew this wasn’t time for such things now. Maybe later if she survived she would let her self-pity come forth, but not here; not now.

“Looks like ya got a nice piece,” a familiar, accented voice spoke up from behind her. She turned to find Jazz, armor battered and worn, but still walking strong. His visor was broken, revealing the blue eyes underneath, but he was still grinning despite everything.

“Where’s Megatron?” she asked, noticing the explosions had lessened some.

“Lured ‘em to an alley then lost ‘em. He’ll be comin’ soon, so we gotta get goin’,” he replied, glancing back wearily from he’d come.

“Here they come! Get ready!” Lennox shouted, as if on cue, and heads turned. Sam was the only one not to, beginning his run with Ironhide and Ratchet close behind.

“Move it, shorty! I got ya back,” Jazz rumbled, spinning around to fire at the Decepticon tank that had recently risen. It fired at the same time, and the redhead ducked down as she scrambled towards Lennox’s group. The soldier grabbed her jacket and helped pull her closer while Jazz detonated some of the missiles in mid-air before turning to cover them from the debris and explosion.

The fight was on. All Autobots except Bumblebee fired at the Decepticon tank while Sam proved his worth, pushing his limbs faster than he could have ever thought against the pavement. He faltered when another Decepticon—this one with helicopter rotter blades on its back—landed right in his path. Ironhide was on it, though, leaping in front of him to take the fire. To the boy’s credit, he kept moving, even as the Decepticon transformed and flew over, nearly ramming him. Far behind him now, Mikeala finished applying the last of the chains to Bumblebee to secure him while Lennox shouted for her to get out of there.

“Going! I’m going!” she cried back, making the last touches and sprinting around, although paused when she noticed the redhead. “Catherine—come on!”

She shook her head, “No, go, Mikeala! Get ‘Bee out of here! I’m going to help make sure Sam gets there!”

Both girls gazed at each other for a good long moment, understanding passing between them. Then the dark-haired girl nodded and continued into the driver’s seat. She put the pedal to the medal just in time, the tank Decepticon within yards and still firing on them. Catherine held back a curse as she ducked down. Jazz was still protecting them as best he could while firing rounds, but there was no way they could hold their position for long. The redhead fired off a round, jerking back at the unexpected force, and only managed to strike part of the armor, hardly doing any damage.

Things only went downhill from there. From behind them came more fire, these shots more powerful than the rest. They were accompanied by a roar that sent shivers up Catherine’s spine. She dared a look, though wish she hadn’t. Megatron, charging out from the alley, his red eyes burning with rage, was the last thing she wanted to see. He fired without aim and without stopping, turning the area around them into a shower of concrete that they couldn’t escape.

“Shit! We’re screwed if we stay here!” she shouted to Jazz, whom was closest as he crouched low to cover them and avoid fire. When he didn’t reply at first, she looked up and instantly regretted her words. She could tell what he planned to do just by the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her. She meant to scream out for him to stop as he rose, focus turning onto the harbinger of death, but the words stumbled and stuck in her throat. She reached out to grab at his arm and then leg, but she was too late. His shield turned into a gun and the other arm transformed into a long saber while his body pushed towards the Decepticon leader. Her words came back to her then and she screamed for him to stop, lurching forward to chase after him, but a strong arm wrapped around her stomach and pulled her back.

“No, Catherine! No!” Lennox shouted, keeping her close. She didn’t struggle, knowing there was nothing she could do as the next round of fire shook the ground and sprayed more broken pavement, forcing her to take cover. She could only watch through her arms as the silver robot charged at the towering mech, firing his gun, and slicing with his sword. His smaller frame ducked beneath the bulk of his enemy, getting in a few good shots and ripping through armor, but it was nowhere near enough to stop the monster. He fired and slashed again, but then he was caught. Megatron had him, and then they were gone. The Decepticon transformed his back into a set of wings that propelled them both into the air. She screamed out for Jazz, but they were gone from her sight and Lennox was pulling her along.

Hope wasn’t lost, though; in the midst of the chaos a beam of light appeared: Optimus Prime. He came charging in through an alleyway as a truck, skidded to a halt, and transformed into all his glory as a warrior, ready for battle. The sight of him made a smile come to the redhead’s face, although she knew it shouldn’t. Their chances of survival may have increased a small bit, but they were still impeccably low and overconfidence would get them killed. Still, it was wonderful to see Prime here.

And then he was gone, too, leaping to grab Megatron as the monster soared through the air, and caught onto him, which sent both into a destructive ride. When she looked around as her group moved, she noticed Sam was gone, too. She panicked, but then shook it off. Sam was fine. He was alive and running. Ironhide and Ratchet were protecting him. He was fine; he could do this. And so could she. She would keep looking for him, though, and if he needed her to come in at any moment, she would not hesitate. But right now, she had to focus on staying alive and helping the soldiers take on the damned Decepticons.

They’d been shoved into a corner now—into a store to be exact. They’d found decent shelter behind moved furniture and fallen ceiling, and used it to shift up and down, firing off shots at the tank, which refused to die. Normal bullets did nothing, and their saber rounds didn’t seem to do much, either. Still, she continued to fire with them, some of her shots hitting, a few going too wide. It was more than just a little different from a shotgun, she admitted, but her shooting was getting better. She cursed with the soldiers when the ‘Con got a lucky shot into the store and blew a hole in the wall. She received a new cut from that on her cheek, and she took vengeance by shooting again.

The gun clicked and she growled, “I’m out of ammo!”

“Here,” a soldier—one she didn’t know—stated and tossed her a normal army gun. She took it and, remembering every show she’d seen with a gun, aimed and fired. It was a little how she expected, the butt of the weapon ramming into her shoulder as the bullet flew out, and, like she expected, it proved ineffective against the ‘Con’s armor. More of the wall was blown and she ducked as larger debris started to fall on her.

“Uh, this isn’t going well!” Lennox stated, and she was tempted say “you think”, but was stopped by a mechanical cry of pain and the sight of the Decepticon rearing back in pain, his chest bursting apart due to a blast that could have only come from an Autobot. The shots kept coming, and the enemy kept taking them. Seeing the tables turned, the soldiers and Catherine went back to work, laying it on the ‘Con hard. Countless hits later, and with a final shot from Bumblebee, the enemy robot groaned and fell, collapsing on a broken building. It twitched only a few times before becoming still.

“’Bee!” Catherine cried happily as the Autobot appeared before them on the tow truck. She jogged over as Mikeala, panting heavily, opened the door and stepped out. The redhead spotted her at once, and high-fived the girl with a grin. “That was some sweet team work!”

“Thanks, though this guy did most of it” the dark-haired girl smiled, though she shook a little from the experience. “Are you okay, though? You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a lucky shot by the wall. It’s nothing,” Catherine replied, waving it off.

Mikeala looked around, “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s still heading for the building,” the redhead replied, frowning. “He’s still got Ironhide and Ratchet. He’ll make it.”

“Yeah… Yeah. You’re right. If anyone can do it, Sam can.”

“That’s it,” Catherine nodded, clasping the dark-haired girl’s shoulder warmly, and Mikeala smiled back.

“Alright guys, let’s move,” Lennox called out, jumping out through the window. “Girl, you stay with the Autobot! Catherine—“

“I’m sticking with you. I know you’re heading to danger, and that’s where Sam is, and I’m not going to abandon him,” she spoke quickly, coming up to stand behind the soldier, gazing in the direction the sound of destruction were coming from.

Lennox paused for a moment before nodding, “You have enough ammo?”

“I ran out of the launcher, and I don’t know how much is in this one.”

“Here, take this magazine then. Don’t lose it. You know how to change them?” he asked and she shook her head. “Alright here, I’ll show you. You do this, pop it in, and you’re good to go. Got it?”

“Got it,” she nodded and, when he turned to give orders to the others, she turned to Mikeala. “Stay here and look after ‘Bee, okay?”

“What, and let you have all the fun?” she managed a smile, and the redhead returned it with a chuckle.

“You’re better off teaming with ‘Bee. Not sure I can reverse drive like you did, and I can’t let you get yourself hurt,” she replied, and then continued when the girl gave her a confused look. “Sam would be upset if something bad happened to you. Bumblebee, too. Well, worse than he is already. I can’t let that happen, so stay here where you’ll be safe.”

They met gazes for a good, long moment. Catherine kept a smile on, but she couldn’t help but wonder if the girl saw through it—saw the thoughts lingering underneath. She wondered if she could see the bitterness she’d felt just days before, or the respect she had formed for her now or how the two emotions combatted within her. Did she see the love she had for Sam—see the pain she had endured and quelled beneath a torrent of purpose and will to survive this day. Did she know?

Catherine broke their gaze first, summoned by Lennox’s call, and took off at a jog with them through the streets, leaving the dark-haired girl and yellow Autobot behind. They charged in two lines through the alleyway, the redhead cushioned between two soldiers. She set her gun like theirs and kept up well enough, although she could feel her limbs burning and her breathing becoming difficult as the sweat and grime continued to build. There was no stopping, though, and she stayed with them until they reached the end of the alley. They stopped just as the helicopter Decepticon appeared, transforming and landing right in front of them. It didn’t even notice their presence as it prowled close to the intersection where Optimus and Megatron were engaged in close combat.

The black soldier turned to Lennox, “Fighter jets in sixty seconds. We got friendlies mixed with bad guys. Targets will be marked.”

“Hey, Epps, bring the rain,” Lennox spoke, bumping his comrade’s shoulder. “Alright, let’s kill these things. Remember, their armor’s weak under the chest!”

The soldiers started moving at their leader’s direction, shuffling out into the alleyway in small numbers and crouching low for cover. Catherine meant to move out, too, but Lennox stopped her, ordering her to stay with another group. She frowned, but did as told, moving to the other side to allow other soldiers out. She peered around the corner with them as the soldiers' commander moved out, too, grabbing an abandoned motorcycle as he did so. Catherine, on the other hand, glued her eyes on the fight further down. The others prepared, arming their weapons and taking aim, while another one of them readied a target beam. The green point trained on the Decepticon, and it was only bad luck that made the enemy unit turn so that the beam landed on its arms, right in its line of sight.

"Move out!” Epps shouted and they moved. One of the soldiers with Catherine grabbed her as they ran, tugging her along and out of the way of fire. The blast still sent them sprawling, but she managed to use her wrestling skills to roll up and keep going, diving behind a car with another soldier. She didn’t bother to aim properly as she leaned over the hood of the car and fired, striking at metal armor, but to no avail. She paused momentarily as the aircraft missiles flew by, striking dead on and around the ‘Con. To make matters worse for the enemy, Lennox’s procured bike propelled him forward and allowed him to skid beneath it in a daredevil stunt as he fired off a few rounds. Every strike rang true and the ‘Con exploded in a burst of flame. It staggered, groaned, and fell, dead.

Catherine cheered when the missiles came, but then her eyes settled on the battle between Prime and Megatron. As if it was fate, her eyes caught sight of the one thing she dreaded to see: Sam stuck between them.

Everything else ceased to exist as her mind focused on that one thing, and, ignoring the shouts of the soldiers, she took off at a sprint. She managed to think enough to keep her gun as she ran, leaping over cars and debris. Even Lennox's calls couldn’t reach her as she raced by down the alley; only Sam’s panicked shouts as he dodged the feet of the brawling titans. More aircraft fire came, striking Megatron and the area around him, showering the boy with dangerous rubble. The Decepticon leader began to fall, but his murderous, red eyes settled on the teen and he reached out to grab him. Sam, stumbling to rise and get away, screamed as the claws drew closer.

The Decepticon’s efforts were in vain as a blue arm wrapped around Sam’s stomach and pulled him out of the way. The claws met pavement instead of flesh, and the red eyes watched as the redheaded young woman grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled him along.

“Catherine!” Sam cried out, tightening the grip so as to not lose her.

“Just run, Sam!” she screamed back as the Decepticon leader made another go. Optimus saved them this time, swinging his leg and tripping the robot. Unfortunately that led to flailing arms, which slammed down too close to the pair. Catherine skidded, falling down with a pained cry, and Sam went with her. The Decepticon was after them at once, bringing his face close only to receive a blast of bullets into his eyes. He roared, rearing back as the redhead continued to fire until she ran out of ammo. She tossed the weapon aside and grasped at Sam’s arm to drag him up. It was going to be too late to run, she knew, as the bullets had done little even though they had struck the eyes, and the Decepticon slammed an arm down in their way. 

However, hope was not lost. Sam rose with her and their eyes locked for an infinite moment, the Allspark held tightly in his hands and moving towards hers. Prime’s shouts were inaudible in the wake of the silent words passing between them and the years they’d been together. There was no need to nod back as she grasped the Cube with him and, the Decepticon leader looming over them, helped raised the Allspark to his chest.

The chest armor opened automatically and then it happened; a wave of sheer force erupted through both of them and for the second time that day, time slowed. Only this time, it wasn’t the world around her that she took in. No, it was something much more that passed through her as the Allspark began to disintegrate. She felt it first in her arms, the tingling returning, and then it traveled further, going towards her chest and then down to her lower body. When she thought it would end at her feet, it didn’t; no it kept going and she could _feel_ it moving through the Earth. That was not to be the end of it, though.

She could scarcely breathe as images flashed by her eyes—an empty void suddenly bursting into life as billions upon billions of countless stars; the formation of worlds big and small, some teeming with life and others lifeless; she saw organisms formed, both organic and not; saw their lives flash by in an instant, but felt all the years as if she’d live them herself; she saw the formation of a metal planet and saw the first metal beings born; she could feel their emotions—their love, their hate, their happiness, their sadness, their pain; she saw the slow corruption and death of a planet; she saw the passing of ages; she saw the creation of life starting so small the naked eye could not see, only to suddenly take shape in much larger, greater forms; she saw those forms change and grow; saw the birth and fall of empires; saw the dawns of new ages; saw familiar and unknown faces and felt familiar and unknown emotions; felt the touch of grass in a field; felt the wind on her face; felt the dirt beneath her feet; tasted the sweet flavors of things she did not know.

She saw and felt anything and everything as if they were her own emotions, and it burned through her like a cold flame. It was awful and yet amazing and intoxicating at the same time. So much so that she didn’t know if she could bear it.

Then there was an image of sharp, black mountains set before a bright, blinding, white ligh, and in the midst of it all were towering, blurred figures.

_The gift is yours now._

And then it was over. The voice was gone. The figures were gone. The strange realm was gone. The images were gone. The feelings were gone. The burning was gone. The Allspark was gone, too, absorbed into the Decepticon’s chest.

Her eyes widened as she watched him arch back, clutching at his chest, and then went to a spasm before falling onto his back. He became still, the red glow of eyes fading to black. She stepped back with Sam, both of them breathing hard and heavily. Their eyes met, and in them she saw the similar realization that he had seen something amazing—something no other human beings had seen nor would ever see.

“Sam,” she whispered, reaching out to him. He reached back and they embraced. She held him tight, the relief flooding through her as her body shook while she laughed with relief. He did the same and they held each other tight, glad it was over. Glad they were alive.

“You left me no choice, brother,” Prime rumbled once he had risen and walked over to the fallen corpse of Megatron. His presence broke their moment, though they were reluctant to release one another from their comfort. 

They turned, though, as the human soldiers appeared around them. She knew by Lennox’s “look” that he was not amused by her stunt, but his smile showed he was glad she and Sam were still alive. She smiled back, but stopped when the Autobots began to appear. Ratchet and Ironhide were bruised and beaten, but alive. However, one of their comrades was not, and the two pieces of Autobot in the black robot’s arm made her heart clench, and not just from sadness, but also another pull on her chest that she could not describe.

“No, Jazz…” she whispered, eyes squeezing shut. She felt Sam’s hands grab hers and she gripped it back. She looked up at him and used his comforting smile to help make her own. She released his hand when Optimus crouched down to bring his blue eyes to their level.

“Sam, Catherine,” he spoke softly. “We are in your debt.”

The two stared, not sure what to say as he stepped away and Mikeala drove up with Bumblebee in tow. They turned and Catherine watched as the dark-haired girl hopped out and came around to meet them. Her eyes found Catherine’s first, and they shared a smile. The dark-haired girl then looked at Sam and he looked back. The smile she gave him was far different from the one given to Catherine, and the redhead could only watch sadly as she realized she had lost again.

“Prime,” Ironhide spoke grimly, handing the remains of their comrade to his commander, “we couldn’t save him.”

“Aw, Jazz…” Optimus sighed, his eyes downcast as he turned to the group of human and Cybertronians before him. “We lost a great comrade, but gained new ones. Thank-you. All of you. You honor us with your bravery.”

Bumblebee looked up and, to everyone’s surprise, spoke, “Permission to speak, sir.”

“Permission granted, old friend.”

“You can talk now?” Sam exclaimed with an almost child-like delight, and if he had a mouth to smile, Catherine was sure the yellow Autobot would have.

“I wish to stay with the boy.”

“If that is his choice,” Prime replied, and all eyes turned to Sam. The boy in question looked to Mikeala, who smiled, and then to Catherine who chuckled.

“Dude, if you don’t say yes I am going to punch you so hard.”

He grinned back as he looked to Bumblebee, “Yes.”

If there was ever a moment that could have and should have lasted forever, it was that one, but, like all things, it had to come to an end. There were survivors to take care of, soldiers to treat, and damage to cover up. Yet, even with a sense of dread of the repercussions to come, the moment ended with the glorious satisfaction that things were going to be alright. The battle was over, they were alive, and the world was safe. They had done it, and they were alive.

Yeah, things were going to be alright. 

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**_TMWolf:_ ** _And movie one is done! Like I said, a few, small changes, mostly with Jazz and Ratchet. I mean, seriously- they just sit their in car form until its convenient to move. BUMBLEBEE GOT HIS LEGS BLOWN OFF. MOVE ): Sooo I changed that up. I mean, I'm sure it had to do with budget and the whole animated amazingly details 3D robots thing, but still. And then the Allspark thing part. Yeah. You think what you guys want on that, ha ha ;)_

_Oh, and yes, I do know how to handle guns. I'm actually pretty good at shotgun- 20 out of 25 on my 4th or 5th try! And since I do base Catherine off myself, she gets some gun skills. Shooting is fun, by the way. Just so you , and OH MY GOD. Trying to keep writing Jazz's "accent" can be so difficult sometimes. I swear. And then I start talking like him in my head or making others talk like him. -face palms- Why, Jazz? Why? I love you, but seriously dude. You're lucky you're dead. >v>_

_So, um, I guess that's all I have to say really... Anyways, time for the cool down and lots of stuff to start happening! Yeah! Until next chapter!_


	8. Fix You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Coldplay - Fix You

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Despite having giant aliens running about its streets and mucking up its walls with alien ammo, the city had done fairly well in regards to the damage. Oh, yes, Catherine was sure it was well in the millions of dollars, but it could have been so much worse. None of the tall buildings had fallen and the loss of human life had been actually incredibly small. That wasn't to say there weren't charred, bleeding, and broken forms here and there, but the wounded outweighed the dead and a wounded person was still a living person. They would get to live another day and continue on with their lives one way or another, and the city would be repaired and move on, too.

Even so, Catherine could not help but frown at the sight of their tears and the sound of their wails as loved ones were mourned or tended to as best as Lennox's men were able until actual medical aid could arrive. It made her almost feel guilty for getting off so easily—at most she may have suffered a sprain in her ankle, which had begun to throb not long after Lennox had herded them, along with the Autobots, away from the carnage.

At first they had wanted to stay and help. Ratchet even offered his services, but the screams of an injured woman when he came close was all the convincing needed to see that, although they were the good guys, the Autobots were not a welcomed sight. The people didn't know the difference between Decepticon and Autobots, so they took the safest option and left with a few of the Sector Seven soldiers with Jazz's remains in the back of their vehicles and Bumblebee still attached to the tow truck. The three teens left with them, too, no longer of much help, and, frankly, they were more than happy to get away from the city. Too much had happened there, and they needed to escape to even just barely begin understanding what had happened.

Instead of back to the Dam, though, the Sector Seven soldiers gave them the coordinates of a separate base—a safe house where everyone was to be moved in emergencies. It was the best bet, so they headed there, but at a slower pace with the earlier sense of urgency gone, although they did not delay either. Thankfully, the roads had been cleared by the government—or rather Sector Seven—and their path was free of too many onlookers. Their pace increased a little once they drove onto the smaller canyon roads, but slowed again as they headed off-road on a "hidden path" to the other base. They stayed there for a good five minutes before they found paved road and an array of metal buildings. 

Sector Seven had been waiting for them, but instead of hostilities, they were met with cheers and warm welcomes directed by Tom Banacheck himself. They were brought into a large area situated with accommodations for people rather than experiments. It was there they found a pleasant sight: Maggie, Glenn, the Secretary of Defense, and even Agent Simmons looking worn out and battle weary themselves while they sat in chairs, guns still across their laps while the black man had a finished plate of food on his. What had once been a pompous ass, there was now a proud, satisfied soldier in the man they knew as Simmons as he exclaimed with much vigor on how they had "done it".

From there, the humans and Autobots had settled into their groups; the robots were guided to a place where they could rest and Ratchet could begin repairs, and the humans took up their spots with the other four to exchange stories while human medics were called in to check on them. Simmons had nearly gotten nearly halfway through the battle with Frenzy when their aid came and began to work on Sam first, at Catherine's insistence. He checked out with a clean bill of health besides exhaustion, a few scrapes here and there, and the cut on his brow that would heal on its own. The redhead was next, and she received a clean bill, too, much to her surprise. The cut—which had been bleeding a good trickle before—had proved to only be superficial, and the pain in her ankle had already ceased. Although somewhat suspicious, she went with it as good luck, and let it go as Mikeala came off much the same as them: just a few scrapes and bruises.

The tale of Frenzy's demise continued then, leading to the robot decapitating itself with its own weapon. The three teens got a good laugh out of that, having not forgiven the little Devil-spawn for its antics at their first meeting. It was their just desserts and they relished in its glorious taste, but had to push their meal aside when their own story was asked. It was told in parts, Sam giving his first, Mikeala second, and lastly Catherine related her side. She found there was more pain than she expected in her tale, and she had to pause more than once to find the right words to describe what she had seen. She didn't tell everything, though. She made sure to leave out the part where she had seen all those wonderful, impossible things. Sam hadn't spoken of them either, she realized, and she began to wonder if he really had seen them.

Regardless, their tale was taken with as much excitement and victorious cheers as their audiences' had been. Even Simmons regarded them with more respect than she would have thought possible from him. He surprised her even further by standing and clasping hands with all three of them, calling them good kids, and to her he added that she was "right". Catherine couldn't help but smile and nod, knowing exactly what he meant. He returned to his seat after that, but the talk was put on hold as more visitors and familiar faces appeared: Lennox, Epps, and the rest of the soldiers.

They were welcomed with cheers, too, which they took with tired smiles before finally collapsing onto the couches and chairs in the room, their energy spent. Catherine wasn't surprised, and even asked if Lennox—who had plopped down beside her on a two-seater—was tired. He told her she had no idea before staring up calls for water and something to eat. They got just that with a single order from Tom and Simmons and more; medics were summoned to check out their wounds as well.

Once everything had been tended to, the relief finally, really set in to all them, and suddenly everything was wonderful. There was laughter and tears and silence as some pressed their heads into their hands. The sheer fact they were alive finally hit them; they had gone through Hell, facing metal titans capable of killing them with a flick of a finger and _lived_. They had witness the coming of something great—something few humans had ever or would ever realize and they were still part of it, but most of all: they were alive. They would see their loved ones again; would touch them and wrap their arms around them; kiss them and hold them tight.

And no one was thought less of in that room for whatever their relief made of them. Rather, they were considered brother and sister of an event that had placed its mark upon them in some way. Though they might not see each other again or come to know one another as such, that comradeship would forever be there and they would remember it. They would remember those tears and that laughter and the pure, happy relief that flooded through them.

Once it had finally settled and they'd composed themselves, the group began to disperse where they felt they should; both Lennox and Epps left to make calls; some of the soldiers began to talk of what they were going to do once they got home; Simmons left to speak with Tom; Maggie and Glenn found peace talking amongst themselves; and Catherine, Sam, and Mikeala moved off to their own corner. There was an unmistakable need for the three of them to do so, but for what they couldn't have been sure. Simply sitting on a couch in the corner was what it took to satiate it, though. They took comfort in each other's company, Sam intertwining his fingers with Mikeala's as she leaned on him, and Catherine leaning her own head against his shoulder, just like they used to.

And for a good long while, that was enough.

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**-O-**

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Catherine eyes opened slowly at first, and then widened as she realized she had fallen asleep. She didn't even recall dreaming, but it must not have been for long because the others were still talking in their groups, although some had shifted and looked more relaxed. Something moves on her shoulder and she found it was Sam's arm, draped over her. She smiled and instinctively curled her head into his bicep, still warm from where she had been lying. It only lasted a few seconds before she realized what she was doing, flushed, and shifted so that her shoulders leaned against it instead of her head. She looked over and found Mikeala and Sam were asleep, too, the dark-haired girl's head snuggled against his chest, while his head was leaning on hers.

Jealously nipped at her, and then sunk its fangs in when she saw their fingers entwined. She frowned bitterly, the remnants of whatever had held it back dissolving. The tears were not its companion this time, though, and her eyes remained dry as she thought of moving the girl away. It was not to be, and she stifled the silly, childish thought. She looked at them again and this time saw the calmness in their features; saw how they seemed to fit naturally together. The dark-haired girl was everything he wanted, after all, and although Sam might not be what she was used to, Mikeala had found something she liked in Sam. It wasn't every day that you got to hold hands with the guy who saved the world and happened to be friends with an alien robot.

_Oh, Sam... I want to tell you, but I can't,_ she sighed, reaching out to brush his hair in her mind. It was but a longing thought, though, and her hands remained in her lap. She instead sighed and resigned in the fact it would remain that way. Sam was not hers—not in that way. She knew they would still be friends, and, well, if that was as far as she could go, then she would make do. She'd kept her secret for two years already, and she could keep it forever if fate so deemed it. Besides, what had she been thinking when she thought Sam would feel the same way? He'd never flirted with her; never made any passes; never looked at her with such intensity; never treated as more than just a friend. Hers had been a frivolous longing—like a frtuiless school girl hope, and she'd suffered for her folly. She had also learned, and she would let Sam go. She would remain his friend, and that was fine.

Yet, even as she told herself the words, her eyes began to water. They were quickly rubbed dry and with a good sniff she regained her composure. It was silly for her to cry over it. Really, it was. She should be happy for him, and she was a little. Sam was and would be happy with Mikeala, and she did want him to be happy, even if it meant she couldn't be.

_But no, that's not fully true. I'm not completely unhappy. I mean, I did just go through the most amazing experience in my life!_ She smiled, looking over to where the soldiers and Maggie and Glenn sat. She had done things she never thought she would, and seen things she only ever dreamed of. She was a part of something grand now. Granted, the main excitement was over, but surely it couldn't be the end? Bumblebee planned to return with them—well, _Sam_ , to be exact, but he would be near her, too—and who knew what was to become of the others with the Allspark gone.

She winced then, recalling what the Allspark was exactly. She hadn't even bothered to consider it when she and Sam had lifted it up to the Decepticon leader's chest, but now that it was too late the consequences of their actions were as bright and hot as the sun. With that simple, yet overwhelming act, she and Sam had single handedly destroyed their source of life. The thought was horrifying, especially as she realized the four Autobots in this base could be the last of their kind. The idea they could somehow reproduce flickered briefly by with hope, but a feeling told her such hope was for naught. Whether it was guilt or something else, it told her firmly that it was only the Allspark that gave them life, and she had destroyed it. She had condemned a species of amazing creatures to extinction.

"Oh God," she whispered, clasping the sides of her head with her hand. How could she not have known it? How could she let herself do that? How could they ever forgive her? Prime had said they were in debt to them, but how could they be? Surely extinction was worse than what Megatron could have done? And yet, his blue eyes had been so sincere and not once had the others shown any resentment or sadness towards them—only a shared sense of relief and victory. How could they, though? How could they brush off their lives so easily?

"Mmm... Catherine? What's up?" Sam's voice mumbled from behind, and her hands fell as she looked back at him. He blinked slowly, as if he hadn't expected to fall asleep either. He looked down at the beauty sleeping on his chest and smiled a little. He hadn't meant to, but his movement woke Mikeala as well. The girl sighed as she lifted her head, looking at Catherine first, and then at Sam, whom she smiled at. She curled into him a little more before leaning up, still keeping their fingers entwined.

"Oh, uh, it was just, um.. I was a little sore," the redhead replied, proving her point by rubbing the back of her neck.

Her friend groaned in agreement as he rolled his shoulders, "Yeah, these couches are a little stiff. How long were we out?"

"I don't think long, but there's no clock or anything, and I'm pretty sure we all lost our cellphones."

"It was long enough for me to need to go the bathroom," Mikeala hummed, finally releasing her hold on Sam's hand as she stood. "I just hope I can find it here. Catherine, you coming?"

"Oh—uh, no, I don't need to yet, but, um, maybe Maggie knows where it is since they've been here longer?" Catherine suggested, gesturing at the blonde-haired Aussie. The dark-haired girl nodded and followed her advice, leaving the two friends alone.

For what had to be the first time in their lives, the silence between them was awkward. Sam shuffled in his spot, twiddling his thumbs, while Catherine leaned back and stared at nothing in particularly, although stole glances at the dark-haired boy. It lasted for a good full minute before the redhead got tired of it and decided to try to break the ice.

"So... You and Mikeala official now?" she asked, figuring it was best to get it out in the open and crush her hopes forever rather than linger on them.

He stammered, "Oh, well, uh, um. N-not officially... um, we, uh, haven't said, um, anything, kind of, um. Yes? Maybe? Yes? No? Um. I think so."

"Just say yes, dork."

"Oh. Um. Yeah. Yes? You approve, then? You're okay with it? I mean, she seems to like you and you got along well enough..."

_No. I'm not_. "So long as she makes you happy."

"Yeah, she does..."

The silence returned again, and this time is was worse. For her, anyways. Sam was happy to smile like a little kid who just got the biggest hoard of candy in his life put into his hands. Catherine, on the other hand, shuffled through things to say, but none seemed interesting, and she didn't want to continue on about his new relationship status. Then she thought of the Cube again, and bits and pieces of the images flashed by in her mind. She looked down at her arms, remembering the tingling that had gone through there, and could swear she felt it starting up again right where her scar was. She traced it absent mindedly, feeling the hard, plastic-like surface of it.

"Sam..." she began, and her friend looked over with a smile that turned into a frown at her own somber expression. "Did... Did you see anything when we put the Cube into Megatron's chest?"

His eyes widened, "You saw something, too?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I did. A lot."

"It... I... Truth be told, I don't remember a lot of it. I'm trying to, but I can't—it's like they're locked up... What about you?"

"I... Um... I don't remember that much either."

She looked away from him. She didn't want him to see the guilt in her eyes; didn't want him to see she was lying. She remembered most of it, actually. Granted, it was as a blurred mesh, like multiple reels of movies all played at once, but she did remember it. She wasn't sure why she lied, though. To protect Sam? Maybe. And it was that "maybe" that unsettled her. She had never been inclined to keep anything as important or drastic from him, but this time... Something in the back of her mind told her this time he didn't need to know.

Her eyes rose from the floor to the approaching form of Mikeala whom looked clean—at least her skin was— and happy to be so. She plopped down beside Sam and their hands were attached again, much to the boy's delight. He beamed a bright smile at Catherine, and she gave a much smaller one back, and that was enough to assure him. She, however, felt the sudden need to leave.

"Call it irony, but my body has decided it needs to relieve itself," she spoke, easing herself up slowly. "Don't suppose you remember the way to the bathroom, Mikeala?"

"Oh, yeah. It's just down that hall and around the corner. They have signs up," the dark-haired girl replied, pointing with her hand. Catherine nodded and walked off, making sure to keep her pace fairly normal while still being able to get as far from them as fast as possible. She succeeded, passing by the soldiers and Maggie and Glenn quickly enough without having the other two come after her. Of course, they were no doubt too busy with themselves to do so, which was both good and bad.

Just like Mikeala had said, the bathroom was down the hall and around the corner at the intersection of two other hallways with signs depicting which one belonged to which gender. She almost made it there, but had to stop as Lennox came out of the men's, wiping the remnants of water from his hands off on his shirt. He was still in his soldier garb, but he had washed most of the grime, blood, and sweat from his face. He looked tired still, but put on a kind smile when he spotted her. She smiled back and welcomed the clasp on her shoulder from him. Now that they were closer and not about to die, she realized he was a good-looking fellow and about a head taller than her.

"How're you holding up?" he asked kindly, and she noticed it was the tone a father would use for their child. She briefly wondered how old he was then, but brushed it off with a smile back.

"Good, I guess. Not sure what 'good' is for someone who just helped save the world," she chuckled, and he did the same as he pulled his arm back to his side. "What about you, Lennox?"

"You can call me Will—you've earned it, and I'm a lot better now that I've talked to my ladies," he smiled warmly, eyes shining with love for his 'ladies', whom he realized she didn't know. "Oh, they're my wife Sarah and my little girl Annabelle. Damn, it felt good to hear them again."

"They'll be glad to see you home again soon, and just think—you're going to have great stories to tell your little girl."

"Uh, well, I don't know about this one," he rumbled back, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Catherine laughed a little before shuffling her feet, "So, um, if I kind of put you in a bad spot back there in the city for, y'know—"

"Don't," he spoke quickly, raising a hand. "Don't regret your decision. You did what you thought was right, and although it was _very, very_ stupid and dangerous you should be proud of yourself. You did well enough for a pedestrian."

"T-thanks," she replied, flushing a little, only to find a finger jabbed at her face.

"But don't _ever_ pull that little stunt at the end again, got it? I don't need the higher ups rapping on me for getting a kid killed or having to tell your parents how you ran _toward_ the danger and put yourself in the middle of it. I don't need anyone else dying on me, you hear?"

Although his tone was stern, she knew it was because he considered her one of his soldiers and cared for her safety. There was comfort and happiness in that knowledge, and she smiled even though she knew she shouldn't as she nodded. His ruse dissolved then and he smiled back, wrapping an arm around in her a quick, comforting hug. With that, he told her to make sure to rest up and get something to eat when she could—they were bound to be stuck in this place for a while. The redhead nodded again, and then the soldier was gone, heading the way she'd come to no doubt join the others.

Catherine, however, didn't follow, but stood where she was in the middle of the intersection. She looked at the bathroom and it was tempting, but she didn't really need to go. She looked down the way she came, but she didn't want to go there either. She looked to her right, but there was only a short walk to a door that led to anywhere. To her left was another hall that seemed to expand forever until it hit a wall and veered elsewhere. It was also in that direction that she thought she heard a clang of metal and for sure felt a pulling.

As if acting on their own, her feet moved down that way, but stopped after a few steps when she regained herself. She frowned, wondering what had caused the motion that felt so foreign. The pull remained, but she could not place it. She only knew it meant for her to go down the seemingly endless hall to reach some unknown and yet known place waiting for her. It almost felt like she was going home, and it was such a strange thought that she laughed a little. How odd to think such a thing in this place, so far from home! Then again—where was her home, she wondered? That cage she dreaded? The arms of the boy she couldn't reach? The normal life of monotony society meant to bind her to?

She turned her gaze down the way she'd come again, thinking of the Lennox and Maggie and Glenn and Simmons and the soldiers and Mikeala and Sam. She thought of him longest of all, recalling the years behind them. Only, the memories weren't so strong now, overshined by the images she had seen and the calling she felt. She knew she should have found that odd and even alarming, but instead she felt a soothing calmness as she turned away from that path and focused her eyes on the endless hallway.

And she began to walk.

With each step the calling grew stronger; grew louder; grew to encompass her body and mind. She knew not where she was going and yet she did. She could feel a tingle in her limbs, but it was natural to her now—as if it had always been so even though it hadn't. It all felt as such as she walked down the white halls, lit brightly by the fluorescent lights. The world behind her was dark and getting farther away with every step, but she wasn't afraid. Rather, she felt assured as the new world before her came closer; the unknown, which would have once terrified her, now enthralled her. There was no going back, and she made no plans to when she came to the end of the hall and turned towards the only way she could go. Before her was a smaller stretch of hallway leading to a white, unmarked metal door. She came before it and, without fear, opened it.

"Slag it all, Bumblebee—you just had to go and get your legs blown up!" the familiar voice of the Autobot medic roared, followed by the clang of metal against metal. A metallic whine came next, and Catherine knew exactly where she was. She couldn't see them yet—hidden out of her sight by the walls of the dark walls surrounding her—but she knew it was them, and soon it wasn't just by their sounds. The sight of lime-green and yellow armor confirmed her guesses, and she couldn't help but grin at the sight of Bumblebee sulking like a scolded child as Ratchet fiddled with his ruined limbs. She didn't go unnoticed either, as the yellow Autobot perked up at the sight of her small form.

"Catherine?" he inquired curiously—his voice healed, she remembered. The medic turned sharply, eyes widening a little at the sight of her.

"What are you doing here?" Ratchet asked, though more so with confusion than anything else. "We were informed we would not be getting any visitors..."

"I... Um, well, I guess I snuck in," she replied, frowning, as she came closer. "So, uh, how are the repairs going? Oh, and are you okay 'Bee? 'Cause, y'know, your legs got blown off."

"I have suffered worse, and we are able to shut off our pain receptors, so I do not 'feel the pain', as I believe you might say," the yellow Autobot chirped.

"Unfortunately you'll have to keep them off for a long time until these Sector Seven humans can get us the right materials. Even then, I don't know how strong they will hold up. You humans waste your metals by combining them into such weak forms," Ratchet sighed, gesturing to the room around them. Catherine followed his arms and realized they were in what looked like an experiment room—she cringed at the memories and wondered how Bumblebee could stand it—only with less tools for such things.

"Oh, um, sorry? By the way—where are Optimus and Ironhide?"

"Prime is negotiating with your leaders as we speak, and—oh, slaggit all, hop on," the medic grumbled, holding his hand out to her. "It's tedious having to stare down and talk to you."

She stepped on without a word and then found herself deposited next to Bumblebee. The Autobot "smiled" at her, optics bright, and she returned it while placing a gentle hand on his armor. She knew he couldn't read her thoughts, but she hoped that he could at least see how sorry she was for everything.

"There. Anyways, like I said—Prime is with the humans, and Ironhide is... elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?"

Bumblebee clicked sadly, looking over his soldier at another table, "He is mourning."

Ratchet confirmed with a nod, his eyes looking away and back to his work while the redhead followed the yellow Autobot's gaze. She could not see over him, though, and so strolled under his arms and around to his other side where she saw a sight that made her chest clench.

It was Jazz's remains, laid reverently on a table. She closed her eyes, but that only succeeded in making the last images of him pass by. She remembered his expression all too clearly—the eyes that knew what they had to do, and that it would mean the end. She could perfectly recall every motion and strike he had made against the Decepticon leader. She remembered he was suddenly gone and she could not stop him. She opened her eyes and he was still gone. His body was torn in two, the armor dented, scraped, and scorched, and his visor broken where a dead, black eye stared back at her.

"Ratchet," she spoke softly and the medic paused to look at her. "Can I... Is it... alright if I go over to him?"

He waited almost too long to reply, "Yes. It's alright."

She didn't turn when she nodded, and stepped off the experiment table to make her way to the other. The climb took more effort than she thought; her limbs suddenly like lead and her chest weighing tons. She made it, though, and she stood before him, shaking. Whether from the exhaustion of the effort or sheer emotions thundering through her, she didn't know, but she could not stop herself as she stared into those dead eyes. She could not stop the memories of him coming, and, though they had been so short—like a blink of an eye—they felt forever in her mind. She remembered their laughter in their short drive; how they had discussed music and culture; how he had trampled about her yard; how he had protected her and everyone else in the city.

The tingle of her limbs and the pull returned. It came hard and it came fast. The memories before her sprinted and expanded, going back beyond the last few days to months, years, centuries, and millennia after millennia. Things she had never witness or heard or seen passed by her, and she was aware they were not her own. The metal faces with blue or red, glowing eyes were not ones she knew, nor was the destruction that followed in their wake or the friendships formed and lost. The hands she raised before her eyes, clawed and stained blue with Energon, were not hers, and yet at the same time they were. They were a part of her, and she felt every sensation.

And then she felt the pulling above it all. Her eyes widened, irises obtaining a bright, almost-white, blue circle of light around them, and her arms rose of their own accord. She could feel power at her fingertips and watched as blue streams of light began to appear beneath her jacket and ran down to her fingers. Her palm became lit with endless, thin streams of the same light, and as the power moved throughout her body she knew it too was the streams. Her body began to move, this time in part of her own will as she knew without really knowing what this meant.

_Jazz_ , a voice—half her own and half a chorus of twelve others—spoke in her mind or possibly aloud, she wasn't sure, and the world around her turned bright, the only shadows from her own body and the ragged rocks around her. She felt another tug, one that pulled her around, and there before her was the silver form of her comrade, standing still, eyes watching, waiting. She reached out to him, and he reached back. _Come._

The strange world vanished and at the same time she touched the silver armor. Her fingers barely brushed the surface before she felt the pull and rush of power increase tenfold. Blue spark exploded forth, arching from her to the ruined corpse. She thought she heard a cry from behind her, but then it was gone as she focused on the moving metal and wires.

Slowly, but surely, the two limbs' parts were reaching out to each other. The sparks were connecting and pulling them closer, forming bonds between the broken pieces and making them whole once more. Dented armor was bumped out, scorches were cleaned, and cuts became as if they had never been. It was fast and slow; seeming to take forever for the two halves to shift metal parts here and there until they were fully, tightly clasped together. When that was at last done, the chest armor opened then and the sparks aligned in the empty husk it revealed. She briefly knew what was supposed to reside there, but the thought was gone in the next instant and she began to feel the drain of energy. It started first in her legs, sucking their strength and slowly making its way up. Yet, while hers was taken, a new energy was being formed in the center of the chest—an orb of blue light; small, but growing.

The memories that had consumed her began to fade; leaving through her arms into the armored body before her, and with them went her strength. Though, while she knew her limbs were failing, they did not fall. The pull and power would not let them—not until the sparking orb in his chest was complete. And when it was at last done, and the sparks and power and pull had ceased, her legs shook, wavered, and fell. She did not meet the surface of the table or even the ground below, though, as a clawed, silver hand caught her in time. She looked up weakly, vision blurring slightly, at the rising torso of the robot before her. His blue visor turned towards her, retracting, and she could see in his glowing, blue eyes that he knew what had happened; that he knew was she had done and something more—something that had been withheld from her by whatever power she had.

"Hey, shorty," Jazz spoke. "I'm back." 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**_TMWolf:_ ** _So to anyone against the whole "human-Allspark" thing... u mad bruh? ;) Well too bad <3_

_I mean you can't be REALLY mad at me, 'cause..._

_YOU WELCOME._

_Yep! Jazz is back! And -gasp- Catherine has Allspark powers! Say whaaaat? Oh, and there was some symbolism in here too. Find it aaaand... I will give you an internet cookie. Any flavor/type/whatever. You have to get the milk, though. Also, kind of another heads up: if I do something, I generally do it for a reason in a story. You'll kind of see why in the next few chapters ;) But yeah, I do have the story planned out so things that happen that might leave questions do get answered. And if I forget, then that was a "my bad" and I try to fix it_.

_And that's all folks! Until next time!_


	9. Little Wonders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rob Thomas -Little Wonders for the song :)

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“It—it can’t be!” Bumblebee cried out, his blue eyes widening as he stared at the revived form of his companion. Jazz just grinned at the yellow Autobot as if it were no big deal, and then looked back down at the red-headed girl in his hand as she struggled to sit up. He helped her, angling his arm so that she could sit properly on his palm and then curled a finger up for her to brace against. She was glad for the digit, collapsing onto it with a sigh. Her strength was returning, though, and she had enough to wipe away the line of sweat on her brow, and to look down when she heard a groan from below.

“Ratchet?” she called out, confused at the sight of the mech down on his knees and reaching out to the table. He almost missed it, but his hand found the stable surface and he used it to pull himself up. His eyes were dimmed and looked visibly tired, but, like the red-head, he was recovering quickly enough. She raised a brow as she asked, “What happened?”

“That’s what I would like to know!” he growled, shaking his head as if to rid himself of an ache. “One klik everything is fine and then you’re touching him and I try to help you only to find my Energon stores drained and everything else seems to be going to the Pit!”

“I… I don’t…” Catherine frowned, not sure what to make of it all or reply.

“What did you do?” the medic pressed, but his target was moved further away from him, pulled closer to the once lifeless, silver mech's torso.

“She only did what she was supposed ta do,” Jazz replied for her.

“’What 'she was supposed to do’? _Humans_ can’t bring the dead back to life! Only the—,” his words caught in his throat and his eyes widened. Behind him, Bumblebee’s had gone even wider as he. too, realized what it could mean. The medic shook his head, mumbling something incoherent, and stared at the redheaded girl intently. Catherine shrunk a little, moving closer to Jazz with whom she felt a sense of security with.

She looked up at him, “What is he…?”

“You’re the Allspark, Catherine,” he told her simply.

“But—it… It _can’t_ be…” Ratchet rumbled and he suddenly activated a green beam that ran along Catherine’s frame. Jazz did not move her this time, his gaze merely watching the medic. The scan lasted only a few seconds before he popped open a panel on his arm and began to move his fingers across it. His face changed many times between a frown, a scowl, puzzlement, and utter disbelief. When Catherine began to worry, she looked up to the silver mech, but he smiled down reassuringly at her. She took comfort in it and, her strength nearly completely back, she leaned up expectantly. Her head rose a bit more when the medic lowered his arm, shaking his head yet again.

“I don’t believe it, but… your body—your _cells_ are teeming with Allspark energy! It should be impossible, but somehow the Allspark bonded to your cellular structure. I don’t understand how it could have found anything to bind to—No, it couldn’t be… But—no, it makes sense! The Energon in your body!” he spoke, the vigor in his voice growing with each passing moment, and when the last words left his motuh he turned on her with bright eyes. If she was worried, it was for naught as he only activated another scan.

He nodded once he read the results, “Yes, I was right! Again, I can’t believe it, but when the Energon in your body was neutralized, it was not destroyed as I believed it would be, but instead _combined_ with the infected cells! It must have not have been potent enough for your immune system to recognize as a foreign source and they were allowed to replicate! It made the perfect medium for the Allspark’s energies to transfer to!”

Catherine hummed a small “oh” as she looked down at her upturned palms, imagining the glowing streams she had seen. She was the Allspark? _The_ Allspark? The one that had given and taken the life of that little crab-Nokia robot? The one that was the life source for these guys? The one that Megatron could have used to destroy the human race but instead destroyed him? _That_ Allspark? It didn’t seem real—didn’t _feel_ real, but she knew it had to be true. How else could she have done all that? How else could Jazz be holding her right now?

She was the Allspark.

But what did that _mean_?

“This—this is incredible! To think it could combine with a human! And to retain so much of its power!”

“Don’t get carried away, Ratchet,” Jazz spoke up, surprising the medic, whom had raised his hands up with joy. “She won’t be able ta do that again. Not anytime time soon, anyways.”

Catherine nodded, “He’s right. I don’t think I’d have the energy for it, and I don’t even know _how_ I did it.”

“Still… this… this is incredible,” the medic repeated. “I… Optimus needs to know… And Ironhide, too.”

“Better now than later, but we gotta keep it low key, ya dig? Can’t let none of these Sector Seven boys know,” the silver mech rumbled and Ratchet nodded as he turned away, growing quiet.

Catherine frowned at her carrier’s words. At first she had wondered why they would need to keep it so secret, but the longer she thought about it the more she began to understand. The greatest hint was the sight of Bumblebee quietly lying on the experiment table and remembering how he had been suffering there only hours beforehand. The organization’s focus was on his kind and the Allspark. Hell, Simmons literally _breathed_ it, and here she was—a human being combined with one of their greatest research projects. They would want to study her, maybe even dissect her, and she wouldn’t be surprised if some of them would go to dangerous lengths to get what they wanted.

She shivered at the thought of being strapped to an experiment table, and to be subjected to the pain and torture Bumblebee had gone through. It passed, though, and she told herself it was a little unrealistic to think they would really do such a thing. After all, they were humans and she was human—just a little changed; mutated. Surely the government wouldn’t subject her to such awful experiments? And even then, surely they would not risk enraging the Autobots by experimenting on the being containing the remnants of their Allspark? And what about the Autobots? She knew they wouldn’t experiment on her—it just wasn’t in their nature—but what then?

“Jazz,” she spoke softly, grasping at the metal plates of his finger, and he brought her closer to his face. “What’s going to happen to me?”

He smiled softly again, “Nothin’ that’s what. We won’t let nothin’ happen ta ya. No one’s gonna hurt ya.”

“Even… Even if that means you guys? Would… Would you… Would you let me go if I asked?” she replied, eyes falling in both shame and fear. Whatever she expected, it was not the feel of cold metal on her chin lifting it up to look into his blue eyes, still holding that same, soft smile.

“If ya wanna go then ya can. It might even be betta for ya, and if any of ‘em try ta stop ya, I’ll defend ya ‘till the end. It’s the least I can do for ya, shorty. Ya saved my life.”

“I was only repaying you. You sacrficed yourself to protect us from Megatron,” she smiled back, pressing her cheek into his finger. She said no more and neither did he, encompassing them in silence as the medic spoke to Optimus through some unspoken means, and Bumblebee remained unusually quietas he watched. That was the least of her concerns, though, as she closed her eyes in serenity. It was so quiet she could even hear her heart thumping in her ears against Jazz's metal finger, and there was another sound—one that seemed to move in tune with hers, although off by enough so that she wasn't confused which one was hers. She did wonder what it was, though; the unknown beating that she could feel.

“By the Allspark it’s true!” a gruff, booming voice resounded, drawing Catherine from her trance. She looked up to find the black, hulking form of Ironhide standing in the doorway, mouth agape and eyes wide. They were focused on Jazz and made it seem as if he were staring at a ghost. Certainly he should have been, but it was indeed his silver-armored comrade sitting on the experiment table, alive and whole. Still in disbelief, the mech stepped slowly at first, but then quickly rushed towards the table and reached out tentatively, though did not touch Jazz.

“Is it… Are you really?” he asked, and the silver mech used his free hand to clasp Ironhide’s outstretched one.

“Yeah, I’m alive, ‘Hide. I’m here.”

“But I saw you— _carried_ you! You were torn in two!” he cried back, although his body had visibly relaxed, his shoulders sinking and his body sagging back onto his legs as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

“Looks like fate had other plans, yeah? Or I guess Catherine here did,” Jazz replied, cocking his head with a foolish grin. Ironhide growled, as if meaning to smack the mech upside the head for his careless attitude, but in the end he grinned back. His eyes then fell down onto Catherine, still sitting on Jazz’s hand, held close to his chest armor. Her strength was returned now, and she did not need to lean on his fingers to meet the towering robot’s gaze. It was odd, but, even before his features softened she could feel the gratitude for her come from the mech. Like much else that had happened in barely half an hour, she could not explain it—only _feel_ it.

Ironhide reached out and touched a few fingers to her shoulder, “I don’t know, nor do I care how you brought him back, but you have my deepest thanks, little one. “

She touched his hand, nodding with a soft smile, and at the touch she could feel the emotions flowing through him stronger than before. She knew they were his, because there was a great sorrow in them and a great relief; sorrow for the loss of too many comrades, and the relief that one that once was lost was returned to them again. She felt he was tired, too—tired of the pain and suffering, but still soldiering on because it was all he could do in order to honor those that had fallen where he-- sometimes alone-- would live.

“Optimus will come as soon he is able,” Ratchet spoke at last, coming up beside the experiment table. “While he _should_ be here to repair his wounds, he is adhering to the humans’ request for a meeting. In the meantime, you will all be staying here. Both you and Bumblebee need repairs, and I would like to assess Jazz’s condition properly.”

“And me?” Catherine inquired, betraying a hint of her worry.

“I said ‘all’, did I not? There may be repercussions to the Allspark’s energies fusing with your body, and I would rather find them now than when they become a problem,” he mused, lifting his hand to show it transforming into some kind of pointer-like tool. “Jazz, if you wouldn’t mind holding her still so I may properly scan her?”

Jazz looked down at the redhead whom nodded as she stood up, and he did as told. Behind them, Ironhide watched with mild curiosity as the medic pointed and fired a green beam at Catherine. She felt a tingling on her skin, but nothing more than that as it ran from the tip of her forehead down to her toes. It vanished the next moment, and he bade her to sit down with a simple hand gesture while the results compiled onto the opened panel on his arm.

“Hmm,” he rumbled after a few moments. “It may take a few of your Earth’s minutes to configure the scan’s data with that on human anatomy, so you’ll have to wait. In the meantime, I would like to scan you, Jazz, so you will need to release Catherine.”

“Got it. You okay with that, shorty?” the silver mech grinned down at her.

She nodded, “It’s fine.”

Jazz handed her to Ratchet then, who took her gently, and set her onto the experiment table where Bumblebee still lay prone, his blue eyes gazing at the redhead quietly. While the medic went to work, Catherine looked up at the Autobot and began to worry, a sense of sadness and failure coming from him. She could see it in his eyes, too, and she stepped forward to place a comforting hand on his.

“’Bee… What’s wrong?” she asked softly, and the Autobot’s door wings drooped as he looked away.

“I apologize. I have failed in my duties,” he began, his voice weak. “I was supposed to protect you and the others, but I could not. I allowed myself to be incapacitated, was unable to keep you three safe, and now you are in danger because of this change.”

“What? ‘Bee—y-you haven’t failed, and I’m not in any danger,” she replied, shaking her head. “And what are you apologizing for? It’s me and the human race that should be apologizing! You were _tortured_ , for God’s sake! You should hate us! A-and the only reason you were hurt was because you were protecting us, and you protected us again with that tank Decepticon! So how … How does that mean you failed, ‘cause I’d say you did a damned good job!”

“I swore to keep you three unharmed—“

“And we are! At most we have some bruises and scratches—okay, well, Sam has that gash, but I know for a fact he’s going to use it to parade around like some badass, so that works out! And, c’mon, ‘Bee, we’re _humans_. It’s impossible for us to _not_ get hurt or get into some kind of trouble! It would have happened whether you were hurt or not.”

The emotions she felt from him lightened some, although the doubt remained. His eyes were not so sad now, and he regarded her with the expression she knew was a “smile”. His door wings lifted some, too, although drooped again just as the doubt swelled again.

“But you’ll now have to face some hardships.”

She sighed, waving it off with her hand, “You know what? I’ll deal with it when I get to it. Shit happens, and you just gotta keep moving forward. It’s how I roll, and with you and Sam at my back It’ll be okay. So don’t worry, okay? I’m a strong girl. You should know that by know!”

Bumblebee chuckled and the doubts became a slither compared to the peace she felt coming from him. She chuckled with him, smiling brightly as she squeezed the edge of one of his fingers. He returned the gesture in his own way, gently pressing his hand against her for a few seconds. She let her gaze wander then, making their way down to his legs, which made her wince.

“Please don’t tell me you guys are used to getting your legs blown off,” she stated, shaking her head.

From behind her Ironhide replied, “Unfortunately, yes. Sometimes worse.”

“Jesus—how do you guys manage to keep going? I mean, ya’ll are different from humans—we would have died from ‘worse’—but _still_ ,” she breathed, looking up at the black mech. A part of her already knew the answer even before she saw the grim expression on his face as he exchanged a glance with Bumblebee.

“Such is the way of war,” he rumbled. “Though, it is over… for now.”

“’For now’?”

“Megatron may be gone, but there are others who would take his place,” Bumblebee stated somberly. “Starscream was not accounted for among the dead, and it was rumored he has long awaited a chance for leadership.”

“Okay, so, wait—how many more Decepticons are there exactly? Like more than we fought in the city?”

“Even long after the end of our planet’s ruin there were many of our race still alive—both Autobot and Decepticon. Many more still live, though scattered across the Universe,” Ironhide nodded.

“But shouldn’t Earth be okay? I mean, the Allspark is gone—er, well, not _completely_ gone apparently, but I doubt they know I have the energy and I can’t do _that_ —“ she paused to gesture at Jazz, whom was still being flustered over by mother-hen Ratchet, “—again, so what would they want from Earth?”

“It is sometimes impossible to know what they want. They are a deceptive type. Some might come for vengeance, others to conquer your people and claim the resources of this planet, and some we may never know. And while it is likely they do not know of your powers, they may find out and they would return for you.”

Catherine bit her lip, the thought of more of those monsters coming and ransacking the planet unsettling in her stomach. It was only worse as she realized one of those reasons for their coming was _her_ , and that it could hurt her friends. The Autobots, she was without doubt, would protect her, but what if too many came?

“There… There are other Autobots, right? Out in the universe… right?” she asked tentatively.

Bumblebee nodded, “Yes, and if this planet is to be our new home, they will come to protect it, too.”

She let a bit of relief go through her, figuring the sides could be even with more troops. Though, the thought of them coming too late made it shrivel to a pulp until she was able to master her paranoia and shovel it away. There was no need to freak out; especially considering the fact humanity had shown it could hold its own against the Decepticon menace. Granted, it had required the aid of the Autobots and the almost-loss of a comrade and their ancient, live-giving artifact. But if given enough time she figured humans could become stronger and defend themselves better against the enemy, and then with the Autobots it wouldn’t require such sacrifices. Maybe. Hopefully.

“That’s… That’s good,” she mumbled, and was surprised to find Ironhide’s hand touching her shoulder gently.

“Do not fear, little one. No Decepticon will ever lay their hands upon you.”

Catherine nodded, stuck on the border between sincerity and false hope. In the end she let herself believe it was true and took comfort and relief in the fact. Bumblebee helped, nodding with Ironhide’s words, and eyess brimming with confident assurance. She looked over at Jazz and Ratchet, too, and, as if hearing them, the silver mech looked right at her and nodded. His was the one that reassured her the most; the notion coming from the feeling she had felt since he had awoken—that he would protect her, always.

Jazz broke their shared look when Ratchet addressed him happily, although the puzzlement was clear in the medic’s eyes. However, the answers would—hopefully—be known in time, and the lime-green Autobot turned away as he glanced at the panel on his arms. His eyes widened a bit, but not in fear. Rather, it was surprise, and he granted Catherine a similar air of happiness when he approached her.

“My scans indicate you aren not nor will you ever have any negligent side effects from the fusion. Rather, it would seem it was _beneficial_ ,” he spoke, and the redhead tilted her head as her brows scrunched in confusion. “The combination of the energy has, in fact, bolstered your immune system and recovery capabilities! Just as the Allspark could heal our wounds, so does it for your body. The lengths it might reach, I cannot be sure, but you should be essentially immune to sickness and wounds will heal far faster than any normal human would.”

Catherine’s eyes widened, “Oh wow! Um, that’s… uh, pretty cool, actually. I guess, now that I think about it, the cut on my cheek healed really quick, and I thought for sure I had twisted something in my ankle, but that was gone even before we got here.”

“I still can’t believe how it managed to combine with you—to think the energy would have fused so perfectly and you would have been the one to hold it when the energy within was dispersed!”

The words triggered a thought in Catherine’s mind and she momentarily returned to the world back in the room where the soldiers and her friends sat. She focused on Sam, recalling his face just moments after the Allspark was destroyed. She recalled his words; his loss of memory of the incident, but he still knew it had happened.

“I… I wasn’t the only one holding it,” she spoke softly, frowning.

Ratchet eyes flickered, “What?”

“Sam was holding it, too,” she spoke again, stronger this time. “I… I think some of it might have gone to him, too, but I… I don’t know. He doesn’t…”

“I will need to scan him, too, then. And we’ll need to see if he has the same abilities as you,” the medic hummed, tapping his chin. “I don’t think it will be difficult to get him here. These Sector Seven humans should be reasonable and gullible enough to let me scan the boy for possible Energon ‘infections’.”

“What if does have Allspark energy within him?” Bumblebee asked quickly, his eyes full of worry.

“We will make sure he remains safe and hidden, from both the Decepticons and Sector Seven. We do not want to alarm him or tip off these scientists of theirs, so we cannot act out of the ordinary towards them,” Ratchet replied, giving the yellow Autobot a look, which subdued him. “I will be back shortly. It would be better to find out sooner than later where it might come about by accident. None of you are to leave even if Optimus commands it—is that understood?”

There was a chorus of nods and various forms of “yes” from the three and, satisfied, the medic stalked towards the large hanger door that gave enough room for the Autobot to jump and still not hit his head on the ceiling. With a turn around a corner he was gone, leaving the three Autobots and one human alone. Ironhide, grumbling, moved off towards a metal contraption that looked like a cargo tray and sat, apparently not wanting to test the medic’s patience and preferring to be in the company of his allies now that he was no longer mourning. Bumblebee’s cheerfulness returned a little when Catherine touched his hand again, reassuring him things would be okay. He nodded, though she could feel it was not sincere. She could also sense he wished to be alone, and so, smiling sadly, she turned and climbed down the experiment table. She made her way to Jazz who picked her up and set her on his leg.

“So you’re really okay? Nothing went wrong?” she asked quietly, looking him up and down.

He chuckled, “Yeah, shorty. I’m one-hundred percent! Don’t ya be worrin’ ‘bout the Jazz-mech here. But what about ya? Ya feelin’ okay after that?”

“I don’t feel exhausted anymore, but I am hungry and a little tired. Sleepy tired.”

“Yeah, well that’s what happens to ya when ya bring a mech back.”

She frowned, recalling the world of white, “Jazz… what… what was that place—the one where I found you…”

“Sorry, shorty,” he began, smiling both sadly and comfortingly, “but it’s not my place ta tell ya. I’m just the one that’s gotta help protect ya. But don’t worry ya head off. Ya might find out one ‘o these days.”

“Oh… well, I’m just glad it worked and you’re back.”

“Me, too, shorty. I’d be missin’ out on too much ‘o your cool Earth stuff.”

She laughed, “There will be plenty of time to talk about that ‘cool Earth stuff’ now you’re here to stay.”

Jazz chuckled back and watched as the redhead smiled briefly before looking down at her hands, a ponderous look in her features. Their conversation, while having strayed to more jovial topics, had joggled her thoughts, focusing in on the new powers she possessed. She knew without a doubt that she could not—not as she was now—bring another Autobot back. The energy and power that had flowed through and pulled on her was all but gone. If she concentrated hard enough she could feel the smallest flicker of it deep within her, but she didn’t even know how to summon that. Was she even much of an Allspark with so little energy? Was it possible to get more, she wondered? Hadn’t Ratchet complained about his “energy” being taken?

“Jazz… do you know anything about… about my powers? Like… could maybe… one day… One day create new life?”

“Again, not my place,” he replied, but, after seeing her disappointment, he continued, “but… maybe. I don’t know fo' sure—I didn’t get told much or nothin’, but it’s possible. Only one who might know anythin’ is, Prime, really. He was an archeologist before all the war ‘n chaos. He worked with the Allspark directly at times; studyin’ it.”

“Oh… Well, hopefully he’ll be done soon and maybe we can figure this out. Even if I can’t ever make more, I at least want to know what’s going on with me.”

“There ya go. Just keep ya chin up, too. Ya know ya got us at ya back, shorty,” Jazz grinned, nudging her playfully. She grinned back, her hands falling back to her lap and her legs beginning to kick back and forth carelessly.

From there, the thoughts of the Allspark and her powers and any worries about them in the future were melted away by the burning excitement of discussing Earth’s “cool stuff” with the silver mech. Like before, they spoke of music and culture and other similar things, and would have remained so if Ironhide hadn’t been taken by curiosity and joined them. His questions turned more towards sports and weaponry, but she was happy to talk about that with him and even discuss battle stories, although hers were for wrestling, which did not involve killing or blowing things like planets up. She found the black Autobot enjoyable despite his earlier gruff and desponding demeanor, which had made him seem reluctant to befriend the human race. He made her think of that old war veteran that was disgruntled by it all after having fought for so long, but was really a kind, intelligent person.

Bumblebee wasn’t going to be left out, of course, and his own questions came up, particularly about human actions he had noticed Sam do. They all shifted over to his table—the yellow Autobot not able to move in his condition—and she began to answer some. When he asked about the boy’s actions toward Mikeala she was reluctant to answer, and even more so when asked about her actions and relationship with Sam. She managed to give some kind of reply, though knew her discomfort showed on her face. Thankfully, the Autobot noticed too, and he changed the subject to something more enjoyable and random. Still, she would answer the best she could and had probably the best time of her life compared to the past few days doing so.

She didn’t realize at first, but as the conversation ebbed on she began to feel like she was home among the four Autobots. She did recognized the oddity of that—to feel so comfortable and happy surrounded by towering, alien robots, but for her it was hardly that. It was as if they were human in those moments, just sitting around and discussing their interests. There were no bored gazes or gestures asking for her to shut up; only pure curiosity and attentive eyes listening to every word. She gave it in return for her own questions, wanting to know as much about Cybertron as they did Earth, and it made her feel like she was wholly part of their group rather than set aside as a third wheel. And it was wonderful.

How much time had passed Catherine didn’t know, nor did she care to ask when Ratchet returned, grumbling something undoubtedly rude by the scowl on his metal face. He spotted them easily enough and regarded them with a raised brow, but made no comment on it as he approached.

He sighed with exasperation, “Well, it turns out they are gullible, but they refuse to allow Samuel or any of the humans for scans until they are done speaking with Optimus and deem us trustworthy enough to have humans in our presence. Luckily I think their meeting is nearly done.”

“Wait—I’m in your presence, soo…?” Catherine inquired, tilting her head and shrugging her shoulders.

“Yes, well, they are not aware you are here.”

“Ah… Oh wait, shit! Sam doesn’t either! And they think I just went to the bathroom! He’s gonna start freaking out soon!” she wailed, grabbing at her head and groaning.

Ironhide snorted, “Then let the humans find out. Maybe then they will stop complaining.”

“Aw, it don’t work that way, ‘Hide. They’re gonna throw some kind a fit if they know we had shorty here with us the whole time.”

“Perhaps you should return until the others are brought to be scanned?” Bumblebee suggested.

“That would probably be the safest solution. I don’t begin to know how you found a way here without Sector Seven noticing, but returning that same way would be best.”

She stood up, nodding, “Yeah. I guess I can say I decided to be mischievous and take a look around. Sam will believe that, and Mikeala doesn’t know me well enough to know any better of it.”

“Then make haste,” Ratchet hummed as the redhead stepped onto Jazz’s waiting hand, which lowered her to the ground. “Remember—tell no one of this. It would bring more harm than anything else.”

“Got it,” she nodded again and, waving at them, she turned and headed back to the tunnel she had come from. She found it easily enough, and began to wonder why this way wasn’t blocked or monitored or anything. It felt different, too. It was almost as if it wasn’t the same metal door before her, but it was. She knew this was the same way she had gone, so what was it she was feeling? Reluctance, perhaps? Indeed there was; it made her pause when she gripped the door handle and look back. She could so easily return to the Autobots and say “screw it” to whatever consequences the Sector Seven people might have. But then she would cause trouble for her friends, and she did not want that, so she fought the reluctance down.

_So what is it?_ She wondered, but only for a few moments longer. She was wasting time and, fighting that feeling down too, she opened the door. As soon as she was back to the main hallway, she realized she wasn’t actually sure if she just needed to go straight to get back. She thought she had only walked straight before, but now she wondered if maybe there were turns along the way. Unfortunately, there was only way to find out, and, taking a deep breath, she started walking.

Sure enough, there were turns she hadn’t noticed initially, which was strange until she recalled the sensation she had felt. She had been in a daze before; the strange power—no the Allspark energy—had guided her, and now she was on her own. It was both frustrating and disheartening to try and navigate her way back to the damned bathroom, and it was only by the luck a Sector Seven guard noticed her and guides her back. She was also given a small lecture about “staying put”, but that was gone from her memory the second he finished and let her go.

She returned to find that she had only been half right about Sam. While not freaking out, he had still become worried even with Mikeala cuddling next to him—which made her secretly smile victoriously—and was about to go look for her when she showed up. He even stood as if to embrace her, but she saved him the trouble by apologizing with an obviously unapologetic grin and announcing her mischievous nature getting the better of her. He took it with a laugh as they sat down and she began to explain how boring the whole damn place was outside of the room they were in.

Her ruse worked, as neither he nor Mikeala thought any different. 

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**TMWolf:** _Alrighty. There's chapter 8 and then we got into a two-parter- you heard me: TWO-PARTER chapter. Get your big-kid pants on, folks. Anyways, ha ha~ I hope people like my "science-y" reason for the Allspark combining with her~ I thought it was reasonable and well, if Sam can get the knowledge in the movies without Energon-blood then just imagine how Catherine would be since it reacts to Autobots, yeah?_

_Also. Catherine thinks. Too much. Way too much. Just a heads up to everyone. :)_ _And Jazz is a very good robot. And, uh... Autobot-human bonding time, yeah! Oh, and I personally loved 'Bee's accent soooo yeah. Talking is going to happen :D_

_I've also come to realize writing Mikeala is... awkward...? I think that's the right word. I mean, you never really see her acting with Sam without some kind of chaos going on or some highly emotional moment going on, so... um, the moments with them here are just what I figure the first days of a blooming relationship might be like for them._

_Until next chapter!_


	10. The Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops forgot to update at a reasonable time MY BAD. Y'all gotta remind me after like three days xD Anyways, the song is Stan Bush - The Touch from the 80's movie lmao

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It wasn’t long after Catherine finished her “Adventure of Mischief” story that the three teens began to feel a little bored off by themselves. The redhead certainly felt a little out of place next to her friend while he held onto Mikaela’s hand and the dark-haired girl had her head on his shoulder. The disgust— the bile of jealousy burning her throat— that would fill Catherine at those moments didn’t help either, but she held it back and masked it with a jovial demeanor. Thankfully, that boredom had a simple solution: they joined the others.

Everyone was back now except for Simmons who was probably off doing whatever Sector Seven duties he had to do. The soldiers, Maggie, and Glenn were happy to welcome and introduce them into the latest topic: what was going to happen now. There was gossip about being kept in the base forever, but the words were jests and they laughed it off with good humor. The seriousness came next and the general assumption that they’d be there for a while was agreed upon. There was a lot of cleanup and covering up to do—Catherine wasn’t sure how they planned to do that, but she wished them luck—and then there was going to be a lot of political work. Furthermore, there was no doubt they would be debriefed about what they could and couldn’t say with the rest sworn to secrecy under government penalty. After all, they couldn’t just go blabbing about an alien war that happened in the middle of city and killed hundred now could they? They had to give the conspiracy theorists a reason to exist, too.

While it was all fun and games with other ideas, for Catherine there was a far more serious undertone. One which made her worry not only for herself, but for the dark-haired boy she sat next to. More than once she stole worried glances at him, hoping to not catch any signs of him having the same powers as hers, and yet, at the same time, she hoped for it. It was selfish, she knew, but maybe if they were somehow more alike then maybe they could be closer.

She would chastise herself for the thoughts not long after having them, and not only because they were selfish, but because this was, again, not the time for such things. While the soldiers, Maggie, Glenn, and Mikeala would be able to leave with only worrying about keeping their mouths shut and maybe some kind of trauma, Sam might have to face the same dangers she was for sure going to have to endure. She couldn’t let them or anyone know she had these powers. She had seen too many movies and read too many stories where the different person was treated as a monster and things had varying chances of going bad or good. She figured her chances for a happy ending were more likely with having comrades already, but she couldn’t be sure. Hell, she wasn’t even confident—not anymore—if Sam would stay by her side if he found out.

So what was she to do? If she kept it secret she would just return to the safety of the mundane life, but then it might accidentally act out on its own like it had with Jazz. If that happened, she would be revealed not only to her friends, but possibly to the enemy as well, and that would end badly. And yet, if she revealed it now she could face the prosecutions of her peers as they might succumb to their natural fear of the unknown, and there was also the curious minds of Sector Seven. Of course, she did have the Autobots. They wouldn’t cast her out, nor had they done so earlier, but that had its own dangers, too. If she was with the Autobots and her powers known, then the enemy would find out, too, and come for her. Surely there was some in between? Perhaps she could learn to hide her powers? They were already weak, and she had no guarantee she could refuel them.

She sighed, leaning back, and wondering why having her wildest dreams come true came with such terrifying and complicated problems.

“You okay, kid?” Lennox asked, and she glanced over at the soldier situated in the single chair placed next to the couch she was on.

“I think too much,” she grumbled.

“Uh oh—what is it this time? You only say that when you think _way_ too hard about something,” Sam spoke up, having heard her, and she regarded him for a moment. Oh, how she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never.

“Just everything, I guess. I mean, everything’s changed, right? We saved the world and we met aliens! Can you believe it?” she finally replied, throwing her hands up in emphasis.

“No, not really, to be honest,” her friend laughed. “Never thought I’d be sitting here with you, a group of soldiers, a couple of nerds, and one beautiful girl.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, Sam,” Mikeala giggled, and again the bile rose in Catherine’s throat.

“It is a lot to think on, but just take it a piece at a time if it’s too much. And if that doesn’t work, just think about how you’re a celebrity that nobody will ever know—kind of like the ones in those cheesy B movies that nobody ever really remembers until they see it at a store,” Lennox grinned, and the redhead couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, well those celebrities can kiss our asses, ‘cause they got nothin’ on us,” Epps added from across the room, their conversation apparently not as small as they thought.

“Damn straight. No stunt double or fake explosions over here,” a soldier she didn’t know grunted.

“And the aliens weren’t props, neither. Real, live, metal beings fighting with us and against us! Hot damn!” shouted another.

“And did you see the two big guys duking it out? Man, am I glad the big red guy is on our side!” shouted a third.

“You mean Optimus? Yeah, he’s freaking awesome, right?” Sam laughed, and the soldiers looked with surprise at him.

“They have names?”

Catherine raised a brow, “Well, yeah. Optimus is the ‘big red guy’, Jazz is the silver one, Ratchet is the green one, Bumblebee was the yellow one, and Ironhide is the black one with the huge cannons.”

“Kinda weird names. I mean, seriously—Bumblebee? Doesn’t seem all that threatening.”

Epps snorted, “Yeah, you say that, but try getting away from a hoard of pissed of ones without getting stung. ‘Bees are the devil, man!”

“So are you three close to the robots or something?” Maggie spoke up curiously, and both Catherine and Sam shrugged.

“I guess. I mean, Bumblebee’s gonna be my car and we’ve known them longer than you guys,” he replied.

"Granted, ‘longer’ means like a day, but they’re actually all really cool. I think you’d guys would like Ironhide a lot— he’s got a thing for guns and blowing stuff up. Jazz, too; he’s way into Earth culture,” Catherine grinned, but it faltered when she saw Sam’s frown.

“Catherine... Jazz is dead, remember?”

Her stomach dropped, but not because Sam was right, but because she had almost revealed something she shouldn’t have. She recovered quickly, replying with a meek “oh right”, and correcting her present tense to past. There were some sympathetic looks around as she pulled off a good act of pretending to be upset and hiding it by describing the other mechs. She advised them that Ratchet might not be the best to talk too—the Autobots didn’t understand “borders” very well, yet. Bumblebee, though, she urged hanging with because he was great, and Optimus was cool, too, although she wasn’t sure if he was the hanging out type.

“Dang—you sure know a lot about these guys,” a soldier laughed.

Again her stomach dropped, but she laughed it off, “Yeah, well, I’m just, uh, good at reading people I guess? Yeah, yeah, they’re robots, but they’re alive, y’know? They’re basically just giant, metal humans.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. Those other ones—the Decepticons, right? Yeah, well they sure as hell weren’t human," a soldier growled. 

“Anyways,” Lennox spoke up, figuring the tone was maybe going somewhere it shouldn’t, “it wouldn’t hurt to get to know them. We might just end up working with them.”

“On what? Are the Autobots supposed to fight our wars or something?” Mikeala inquired, frowning slightly.

“It’s possible. While you guys see them as people, the government will probably see them as potential weapons, and the Autobots are going to need some place to stay so that kind of puts them at the bad end of the deal,” he replied, and it started a surge of uneasy looks around the room. “And then we don’t know if those were all the bad guys out there. I, for one, didn’t see that smaller one from the desert, and we all know it’s not dead. If that one is still out there then maybe there’s more. We’re going to need these guys to help fight them, and I wouldn’t mind getting more payback on that damned small one.”

There was a hum of agreement from the other soldiers, a flicker of some unknown happening only they knew. Whatever it was, though, it was enough for none of the soldiers to disagree.

“I have to wonder what the other countries will think, though. There will be a lot of trouble if the Autobots are only sided with the United States if you think about it—the other countries will feel threatened and history shows us what happens then,” Maggie stated grimly.

Glenn balked beside her, “You talkin’ like World War Three trouble?”

“Well, not _that_ extreme, but the others might begin riots against the aliens and who knows what that could do for them!”

“But wait—isn’t Sector Seven going to cover all this up?” Sam asked.

“I don’t doubt it,” the Aussie nodded.

“But there’s only so much you can do,” the large black man added. “There’s bound to be somebody who got some kind of video, and you can bet it’s gonna be up on the Internet in no time. And, sure, they can track it down eventually, but places like YouTube have millions of users, so it’d be safe to say a large number are gonna see that video and stream it to other people. It’s basically impossible for people _not_ to find out.”

“Then the best thing to do would be create a world-wide alliance, right? One that has the Autobots work for everybody essentially? That’s not really fair to them, but it’s like you said Lennox: they’re at a big disadvantage,” Catherine spoke next. “But then, at the least, the countries can’t complain about having aliens used against them, and then they won’t want to starts riots to keep their ‘secret weapon’ secret, right?”

“But then the Autobots are just being used all around—that’s not right,” Mikeala frowned.

“No, it's not right at all. But an alliance like that would be good, though,” Lennox mused. “If anymore of the bad guys come and land in different countries, then it would be easier to deploy troops and Autobots to their location without having to keep it low key. In that way the Autobots wouldn’t be ‘used’ so much, since we kind of need them to fight those things.”

“Man, can we cut it with all this political bull crap? I didn’t come out alive from a fight hours ago to discuss politics!” Epps groaned, leaning his head back against the coach, and received similar sentiments.

“Not like our opinions will matter anyways,” Sam grumbled unhappily. “All I gotta say, though, is that Bumblebee better be able to come home with me.”

"Don’t be surprised if it takes a while or never happens, kid,” an unknown soldier snorted. “Politicians take forever on _normal_ things, so just imagine how long it’ll take for alien ones!”

“He could probably sneak out,” Mikeala grinned. “And he did help save the world—it’s the least they could do.”

“Well, whatever happens, we’re going to have to wait for it,” Catherine frowned and then smiled a little. “Call it being optimistic, but I think things are gonna work out okay. We just gotta wait.”

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**-O-**

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“Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Anybody miss me?” the obnoxious, impossible-to-forget voice of Simmons rang out and all eyes moved to stare at the approaching figure, still clad in battle garb. He had washed up from the last time they saw him, and he had fresher gear on, too. His normal demeanor was back as well, although this time it didn’t elicit hate. Now that they knew he just wanted to save the world like everyone else it was just a humorous façade. Of course, they couldn’t let Agent Simmons know that.

“I would say yes, but then I’d be lying,” Sam called back, grinning, and earning a few chuckles.

Simmons did so sarcastically, “I see even a near-death experience doesn’t change that funny-man personality of yours. You’re lucky I like you, kid.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘luck’,” the young man mumbled under his breath, making both Mikeala and Catherine smile.

“Alright, what do you want?” Lennox inquired, half-smiling, half serious.

“So glad you asked, soldier-boy,” he replied, clasping his hands together. “Well, it seems you guys are going to pay a visit to your little Autobot friends. Apparently being close to their little Cube thing when it’s being destroyed releases a lot of radiation, so they just wanna make sure nothing’s wrong with you.”

“I’m surprised you’re so trusting, Simmons,” Mikeala used with a raised brow. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not runnin’ the show here.”

“Oh, ho, ho, so Mr. Big shot isn’t so big is he? Has to follow the rules like everybody else,” Epps all but purred, much to Simmons displeasure, which appeared as a “ha-ha-you’re-so-funny” expression.

“So, wait—are we like radioactive? Like nuclear aftermath radioactive?” one of the soldiers asked wearily.

“What? B-but me and Catherine are fine and we were _holding_ it!” Sam cried out, lurching forward with wide eyes.

“The Allspark isn’t a nuclear bomb, though—we wouldn’t know what it could do to us,” Maggie replied, and she was given unappreciative looks by more than a few of the others there. Luckily—and a little surprisingly—Simmons came to her rescue.

"Aaaand that’s why we’re gonna have their Doc take a look at ya, so if you want to wait and see if your insides will fry by all means, stay here, but the rest of you can come with me.”

There was only a slight pause as everyone looked at everyone, and then the soldiers were moving first. Maggie and Glenn remained behind, having not been exposed, and managed to give Catherine, Mikeala, and Sam sympathetic looks and good luck signs as they passed. While Sam’s and Mikeala’s thanks were genuine, Catherine’s wasn’t entirely so. Of course, the redhead knew a great deal more than they did. She was sworn not to tell, though, and so she pretended to share their worries. Her _real_ worry, though, were more so about what they would do in regards to Jazz. How could they play _that_ off? Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be her only worry as Simmons, having apparently directed the soldiers on where to go, he strolled up next to her.

"Y’know, for such a clean slate, you’re doing some pretty sketchy stuff, little lady. Word is you were snooping,” he spoke, eyeing her carefully, but she merely grinned innocently.

"’Snooping’ sounds so… purposeful. I was just admiring your wonderful walls aimlessly,” she replied, facing forward at first, but then turned to him with an inquiring look. “Oh, Simmons, don’t tell me you still think I’m going to take over the world! I have absolutely _no_ intentions of doing that!”

The Agent turned his face towards her, eyes set between glaring and something else—probably trying to figure her out. Given enough time, she had a feeling he might just do that. Despite his egotistical and arrogant manner, he was smart. She couldn’t deny that even with any animosity she might have towards him—she wasn’t going to forget what he did to Bumblebee or Sam— so she had to tread carefully. Which meant she couldn’t look away or stop smiling like this was all some game, and she didn’t, thankfully. It helped that they reached the doorway and Simmons had to give them over to another guide that was going to discuss what they could and couldn’t do.

“I’ve got my eye on you, kid. You’re up to something. I can smell it,” he told her before spinning haughtily on his booted heels and sauntering off in the opposite direction.

_You’d make a good bloodhound,_ she mused with a smile. _But as long as I can help it, you’re not going to find out._

She watched him go for only a few seconds before turning back to the new guy addressing them, and vaguely listened in as they explained how they were going to be taken in one at a time, scanned, and decontaminated or something like that before being brought back unless something was wrong. Easy enough, although then again, maybe not. Not if Sam had Allspark powers, too. And she still wanted and needed to know about hers, so what would be the plan? Sector Seven would freak if they did actually have something “wrong” with them.

“You don’t think the Allspark really did anything to us, do?” Sam asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“You and me? Maybe. We were holding it, but everyone else should be fine. And it’s like you said—we probably would’ve felt something if it had, right?” she replied, shrugging.

“And the people here have worked with it up close, too. If there’s nothing wrong with them, why us?” Mikeala added, and both Sam and Catherine nodded.

The boy frowned suddenly, though, “My grandfather went crazy, though…”

“That wasn’t the Allspark. Megatron did that, remember?” the redhead mused, and her friend’s mouth opened in an “oh-yeah” way. “I’d say there’s a big difference between navigation coordinates and life-giving energy.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, why would they give it to us if they thought it would harm us, right?”

"There ya go,” Catherine grinned, patting him on the back. _Or if they didn’t know what it would do._

They were joined by a few more agents, these ones guards, which seemed unnecessary to Catherine, but she didn’t pay much mind as she focused on keeping more towards the back of the line. If the Autobots maybe planned to find something wrong with her and keep her with them, it would be better if everyone else was done first. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice, and Sam and Mikeala were too busy worrying in their heads to notice her lagging behind ever so slightly. She wasn’t worried about Lennox or the other soldiers noticing, either, as they were too far ahead to bother looking back, and she was able to catch small tidbits of whispers—many about what it would do to certain special areas. She couldn’t hold back a smile at that, but thankfully kept the laughter to herself.

They arrived at the “scanning room” after a few turns and then they were filed into a line, the soldiers first, then Mikeala, then Sam, and last Catherine. They were directed in one by one and the process of the actual scan didn’t take long. The first was out within a few minutes with a look of such joy that Catherine laughed a little. Sam looked back at her like she was crazy, and she assured him he’d probably end up doing the same. He wasn’t convinced and she wasn’t going to tell him neither was she, so she refrained from even chuckling as soldier after soldier came out with relieved looks on their face. Then it was Mikeala’s turn and she was weary as she stepped through the metal door. It was gone in the next few minutes, replaced with relief, and she let them know she’d wait for them—or rather _Sam_. He was delighted, of course, and, seeing Mikeala was alright, he took his turn with a bit less fear.

Catherine, however, was not so easyily calmed. In fact, her hands began to feel clammy and a thin layer of cold sweat had settled in as she worried about Sam. If he did have powers what would they be? Could he give life, too? But he hadn’t acted like she had. Were his powers just dormant? He didn’t have Energon in his body, though, so the energy wouldn’t be able to bond with him, right? Again, she was torn between wanting him to be more like her and wanting him to be fine. After all—would he be happy being different like she was? Would he be okay if Mikeala rejected him because of him being different? And if she didn’t, could it still work out? And if it didn’t work out, would Sam see her as more than friend? But no—those were terrible thoughts to have. Sam would need comfort and help if he did have something wrong him, not her selfish desires.

_How much time has passed? Did Ratchet find anything?_ She began to wonder, biting at her lip. She glanced over and found Mikeala was frowning uneasily, too, and had her arms wrapped around her body as she shifted from side to side. It was kind of nice to see the girl care for her friend considering their different social classes, but the bitterness was strong and wrathful, and the thought was driven away soon enough.

And then Sam came out of the room happy as can be. Despite herself, she felt her heart drop and her body grow cold. The thoughts, both hopeful and shameful, withered and died, and she happily embraced him back when he hugged her in his moment of excited joy. He hugged Mikeala, too, and she noticed theirs was longer and they locked their hands once it broke. He at least remembered his friend and wished Catherine good luck as she too was ushered in.

The metal door closed with a loud _thunk_ and she was left in a dark-walled room lit with simple fluorescent lights hanging far above her head. There was a single table—an experimental one she realized and wondered what was up with all the tables—and standing beside it was Ratchet in all his lime-green glory. She glanced around a bit more as she approached him, noticing the suspicious globes attached the ceiling and how rectangular parts of the wall seemed different from the rest. She had no doubt the Sector Seven people were watching, so she kept quiet as Ratchet lifted her up onto the table and scanned her as if he didn’t already know.

His scanner beeped and he tilted his head as if surprised, “Well, this is _unusual_ … My scanners have detected traces of Allspark energy within your body. It’s nothing serious, but it will need to be taken care of before to prevent any potential damage.”

_“Excuse me, Mr. Ratchet, but did you mean to say she is testing positive?”_ a voice from an intercom spoke, whichsounded a lot like Tom Banachek.

“Yes,” the medic sighed with exasperation. “And now I’d like to take her to the others to remove it from her bodily systems.”

_“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to allow that yet. Can you not cure her here?”_

“Although I am a medic, my knowledge of the Allspark is limited. Optimus is the only one who will know the exact procedure needed to ‘cure’ her. And I was led to believe we were allowed to interact with humans, or was Optimus Prime lied to?”

There was an uneasy pause, “ _No, he was not, but—“_

“Then there is no problem,” Ratchet replied shortly, his tone one not to be messed with, and he laid his hand out for Catherine. “She will be returned once she is ‘cured’.”

_“Mr. Ratchet, hold on just a second!”_

“My apologies, Mr. Banachek, but until this ‘alliance’ Prime spoke of happens, no human has the jurisdiction to instruct me in how to handle my patients. I will apologize if my actions put you in a ‘bad spot’, but my intentions are only for the best of this young female. Now, I _will_ be leaving with her and she _will_ be returned safely. If you must, leave an escort outside our designated room to wait for her. At the most it should take a few of your earth hours.”

With that, and Catherine safely in hand, the Autobot strolled out another hangar door just as Tom’s voice began to ask for him to wait again. The medic would have nothing of it, promptly ignoring the voice and the guards that were hesitantly tip-toing near him. For a moment, Catherine thought they would actually use their weapons, but a second thought stopped them. She could imagine an almost infinite amount of reasons why, but she suspected it was because they could see what the Autobots could do if they actually fought. In a nutshell: They’d be screwed.

She grinned and waved at them just before they vanished behind the closing hanger doors, and then she relaxed against the side of Ratchet’s hand, the Autobots holding her like he was King Kong. Close enough, anyways. His face was impassive, though, and she had a feeling they were still being watched. It made her wonder if maybe they had been watched in the other place, too, but nothing had happened, so she guessed not, which was weird. They must have had a good reason, though.

Whatever the reason, though, it was a lucky break for the Autobots, and a cue for Ratchet to finally sigh in frustration once they were safely within the room. He soon went into grumblings about the idiocy and annoyance of the “Sector Seven Simpletons” as the medic had apparently learned about alliteration in the short time they’d been apart. She laughed then, and her happiness only grew as they emerged around the corner and spotted Ironhide, Jazz, Bumblebee, and the back of a fourth visitor— a very familiar, blue-and-red-flamed back that rose above the other three. Once the first three sets of optics looked at her, the familiar back began to turn, and at once awe and respect came over her.

“Optimus,” she spoke, bowing her head.

He held up his hand, “Do not bow, Catherine. We are all equals and friends here.”

“I’m honored,” she smiled back as Ratchet set her down next to Bumblebee. The yellow Autobot whirred at her, the flaps on his helmet and door wings lifting in greeting. Ironhide and Jazz nodded at her, too, the latter grinning as he did so.

“I’m afraid our time is limited, Prime. I have no doubt the humans will come within the cycle, so we must make haste,” Ratchet urged, his grumpiness now somber and set in a firm frown.

Optimus nodded, “Understood. We have already made a way to explain Jazz’s resurrection, so all that remains is to speak with you, Catherine. Of what your power is.”

“I’d like that. A lot. Though, now that you just said it,” she replied and gestured at Jazz with her head, “What is the excuse for Jazz exactly? I, uh, don’t think saying Ratchet has mad medic skills will work.”

“You are correct, and the answer lies with this,” the Autobot commander spoke, reaching into a newly revealed space on his arm to show her a metal object. Not just any metal object, though. When it was brought closer, she recognized the swirling marks and symbols, and even at the distance between them she felt a familiar tugging in her chest. The urge to reach out and touch it was suddenly strong, but then the object was pulled away and it was gone. If she had been unsure before, that was all the evidence she needed to know that the shard was a piece of the Allspark.

“But… I thought… I thought it was completely destroyed,” she breathed.

“As did we, but it seems a fragment remained. However, while it is indeed a piece of the Allspark, no power resides within it. It is but an empty shell, but the humans do not know and cannot tell, and so we can use it. We will tell them remnants of the Allspark’s power remained within it, allowing us to revive and repair Jazz. It will serve to cover the truth and more.”

“’More’?”

Optimus nodded as he returned the fragment, “Your government officials wish to have an alliance with us, one which would be beneficial for both of our kind. However, they are uneasy with nothing physical to bind us to them, which is why I will present them with the shard. If they believe it has life-giving powers they will believe they have power over us and that it is a show of good faith. In this way they will again be led away from the truth—from you.”

“Wow… that’s, uh, really, really smart,” the redhead hummed. “But then, uh, what’s going to happen with me? I guess… Well, I mean, I’m the Allspark, so shouldn’t you be wanting to keep me around or something… Um… Though that might be bad, ‘cause Sector Seven might, I dunno, do something…?”

“While it brings me great joy to know the Allspark still thrives, _you_ are not _just_ the Allspark. You are a sentient being capable of making your own choices, and we are in debt to you. To keep you among us risks exposing your power and possible places you in the very danger you fear, which I cannot allow. For that reason, you will return home once your government deems you are able and Bumblebee will serve as your guardian as well as Sam’s. In this way, neither the humans nor any Decepticons might become suspicious of your presence.”

Catherine frowned as she nodded back. Optimus was right, of course. It was better if she didn’t expose herself, but she couldn’t help feeling that maybe that wasn’t right. That maybe hers was a different path. That this—being among the Autobots was her place. She was the Allspark, after all. Yes, she was Catherine, too, but she wasn’t _just_ Catherine now. She was a part of their culture, their history, and, most importantly, their future. But, then again, she didn’t fully know what the other part of her was. She couldn’t make an accurate decision based off her own fantasies. No, she needed to know more.

“Well, if I’m going to be sent away to hide, I want and probably need to know what the Allspark is. I didn’t exactly revive Jazz on my own, and I don’t want to accidently use my powers and expose myself,” she stated firmly.

“Indeed, and you shall know all that I have learned. Unfortunately, there may not be much to tell. Although I once studied it with my colleagues, we did not learn many of its secrets. However, what we do know for sure is that before time began, there was the Cube. We knew not where it came from, only that it held the power to create worlds and fill them with life. That is how our race was born…”

Even before he finished saying “Cube”, Catherine was entranced. Optimus only hooked her further as he pressed the side of his head and lights appeared from his eyes much like before, and displayed a flat plain of metal structures, some broken and some whole. Deep within the crevice that appeared before them she spotted Cybertronians lacking the car-part armor her companions wore approaching the partially exposed edge of the Allspark. Leading them was Prime, and the moment after his hologram touched the Cube the screen changed to that of a battlefield. More Cybertronians—not Decepticons, she was told—were attacking Prime and his companions, which surprisingly included Megatron and another Prime, Sentinel. However, the battle suddenly changed as one of his companions, Wheeljack he was called, summoned a sun of all things and the Allspark was suddenly brought to life. The fighting ended and the metal race was united as one under the artifact’s powers, which were revered as highly as any God on Earth. A temple was even built around it by their once-enemy to honor it, and the object was left as just that. No more was done to delve into the secrets of the Cube; it was too holy as their source of life to dare possible sully it by learning what might be better left unknown.

“I apologize, Catherine. Our reluctance has kept us from learning why you have gained the gift or even how, and I fear that is the extent of my knowledge of the Cube,” Optimus Prime concluded, the light vanishing and his head bowing somberly.

“Dude, Prime, that was more than enough for me,” she grinned back. “And they have this phrase here: ‘don’t look the gift horse in the mouth’. Basically, don’t worry about the ‘how’ or ‘why’—just go with it. And frankly, I’m more interested in the fact that the Allspark could—er, _can_ be recharged. Granted, if you tried to use a sun on me, I’d fry on the spot…”

Ratchet stepped forward, “That’s assuming _you_ can be recharged. We originally thought the Allspark’s power was tied to the actual Cube itself, but the fact the power now resides within you changes things. For instance, recharging you through the sun, as you put it, cannot be done. And I do not believe you wield the power in the same way, either.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I’m not exactly an inanimate cube-shaped object. Not that I can control it all even though I have a will of my own,” she frowned back, looking down at her palms. “Reviving Jazz kind of wasn’t, uh, all 'me', I guess is the best way to put it.”

“It was rumored the Allspark was created by a higher being,” Ironhide rumbled, and the redhead gave him a surprised look, not expecting such speculations from him.

“Perhaps it was instinct, though? The Allspark was also said to house the history of our race and planet within it. She is the Allspark, so it might be possible it has become innate within her?” Bumblebee suggested. There was much possibility in that, the redhead realized. The things she had seen when the Allspark gave her its powers—it could only have been the knowledge Bumblebee spoke of. Yet, it seemed somewhat incomplete. She did not feel she knew _Cybertron_ at all, only its inhabitants. She mentally sighed, wondering why it all had to be so confusing.

“Well, whatever the case, we need to figure out how it works so I can control it or whatever,” she huffed, and Prime raised a hand to ease her.

“And we will. Let us start at the beginning, however,” he rumbled. “Do you remember what happened when you revived Jazz?”

She frowned, “Well, it was weird, but… But it was like I was being called to him. Kind of. That’s what it felt like when I came to this place that back way or whatever. And then when I got close to him I started to remember the times we were together here on Earth and then… and then I started seeing different memories. Ones that weren’t mine. They were Jazz’s. Then those sparks started happening when I touched him.”

“And then you started sucking the Energon right out of me and everything else!” Ratchet growled, although not so much with anger as annoyance, to which she shrugged sheepishly at before suddenly frowning again, this time in confusion.

“Wait, wait— _what_ did I do?”

“My best assumption is that your body did not possess enough Energon to complete the procedure, so it ‘borrowed’ from my own spark and from the machines around you. Bumblebee confirmed this as well.”

“Yes; Ratchet’s Energon levels dropped at the same time the room’s machinations’ electricity did, although they became normal oncd it was over,” the Autobot added with a nod.

“Oh my God—I’m so sorry, Ratchet! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” she cried out, stepping towards him, but the medic held up his hand.

“It’s fine. It was just a drain of my stores, which was amended easily enough. And it did lead me to believe you can recharge by ‘borrowing’ Energon from other sources,” the medic replied. “However, your smaller, organic form cannot wield as much power as the Cube did.”

“So… what? I’d have to hook up to like a generator or something to make my powers work?”

“Theoretically, yes, although this talk of a ‘pull’ might create complications.”

“Do not be worried,” Prime spoke when Catherine’s face fell. “Ratchet and I are here to aid you.”

“And don’t forget about us, yeah? We might not be able ta do much, but every little thing can help ya,” Jazz added, and his voice calmed her more than she thought it would.

“Thanks, guys,” she smiled brightly. “So, I guess we better get started as soon as possible since I don’t know how long we’ll be here at this place… What should we figure out first?”

“We’ll need to figure out how to recharge it first,” Ratchet mused, rubbing his chin. “Energon and electricity seemed to work, but direct contact with such things is normally dangerous for your kind… perhaps spark Energon, instead?”

“’Spark Energon’?”

The medic tapped on his chest, “Our source of power. The closest to your anatomy would be the ‘heart’. Its energy is more akin to the Allspark’s than your electricity or the Energon you were infected with, so it will not prove harmful.”

She immediately stepped back, shaking her head, “Nooo, no, no, no! I am _not_ going to take away your life force! I can’t just take your life or spark or whatever it is like that!”

“Catherine, it is alright. You do not know much of our kind, but our sparks contain a great amount of Energon— or rather energy, as you would say, within them. It is far beyond what one your normal generators can give, and the consumption of Energon can easily refuel it. Furthermore, the most harm you will do is make us tired, and it is only until we can decipher if your electricity can be used safely. I can assure you it is alright,” Optimus Prime stated softly, his eyes looking at her with such ease and comfort that she relaxed a little.

“Trust us, shorty. It’ll be okay. Docbot wouldn’t have suggested it ta ya if he thought it was dangerous,” Jazz continued, and with his comment she felt her unease lessen even more. When she glanced around and saw the other two nod in agreement the reluctance vanished completely.

“Alright, well, so long as it’s okay with you guys,” she nodded back, but then set her hands on her hips haughtily. “But the first time it makes you guys feel pain I’m not gonna use your sparks, okay? I refuse to put your guys in danger. But, um, now that’s said—who’s spark am I, uh, ‘borrowing’ from?”

Jazz stepped forward, tapping at his chest plates, “Ya can use mine, shorty. Ya just brought it back n’ all, so it should easiest for ya ta connect with, yeah? And don’t make that face, ‘Ratch. I know my limits, so just trust me on this, a’right?”

The medic, having moved to intervene begrudgingly nodded.

“Okay… so, um, how am I supposed to do this exactly?” she asked Ratchet, looking between him and her upturned palms.

“The Allspark reacted through touch, and your earlier display leads me to believe you are much the same. Do so carefully, though.”

_Well, duh_ , was the thought that came to Catherine’s mind as the silver mech stepped closer. His height was just right for his torso to be right in front of her, and she swallowed uneasily as his chest plates moved apart to expose the glowing orb of white-blue light. She could feel a thrumming from it, and there a buzz-like sound if she listened hard enough. It was familiar, too, and realized it was the sound she’d heard from him before. However, the thought was lost as she stepped closer, raising one hands up and towards the orb. She carefully looked up at Jazz, but he only nodded reassuringly, and, taking a deep breath, she touched it.

At once she felt a rush of energy shoot through her hand, and with it came another rush, but not of energy. Rather, it was that of memories and emotions—images of her standing on the table reaching out; feelings of sureness and knowing this was supposed to happen. They weren’t _hers_ , though, and when she pulled away out of shock rather than pain, she knew they had been Jazz’s memories and emotions. She blinked, looking down at her hand, and noticed the blue lines had returned, though they stopped at her elbow and quickly vanished. She looked up at the silver mech and noticed he was grinning, obviously unaffected. Then she looked to her left and found Ratchet hovering anxiously; worried.

“—ine, are you alright?” she finally heard him say. She blinked again, wondering when she hadn’t been able to hear, but still managed to nod.

“Y-yeah. I’m… I’m fine. That was just a little weird. Did… Did it work? I feel like it did, but maybe you should make sure?”

Ratchet quickly ran a scan, which confirmed her feeling—she had indeed absorbed the energy. When he asked what it felt like, all she could really tell was that she felt more energetic—like she could go running right now. Of course, that was nothing compared to the next few moments in which she realized she could get more energy, which meant that it was maybe possible to make more life. The Autobots had a shared look of relief with her, but the only one in particular she really took notice of was the silver mech’s who gave her a “see? Nothing-to-worry-about” smile. She grinned back, but then frowned as she realized something.

“Okay, so I can get more energy, but what now? Should I try accessing the energy or do I try different sources, or…?” she trailed off for the medic to continue, whom rubbed his chin curiously.

“Perhaps it is too soon to try using the power just yet,” Prime replied before Ratchet could. “Let us conquer one step at a time; the first being what you can get energy from.”

“He’s right, and now that we know sparks work, let us attempt electricity. However, due to its dangerous nature we’ll need more precautions,” the medic added, and rummaged through an opened space on his upper arm to reveal a pair of rubber-like gloves. “My alternate form created these in my scans to help blend in. They’re meant to prevent the electricity from entering your body, but hopefully the energy will be absorbed through them.”

She took them, examining them back and forth, “Huh. Rubber gloves. Nifty. So what lucky machine am I testing today?”

“Any of them will do; we just need to expose the wires in one of the structures here...”

“Got it,” Ironhide rumbled, and unceremoniously rammed his hand into the wall near him. The outer layer of metal crumbled, revealing the inner circuitry, which he easily ripped out as if they were nothing. “How’s this?”

“Unethical, but it will do,” Ratchet frowned, giving the black mech a look, who merely shrugged his shoulders. Jazz, meanwhile, held his hand to Catherine, whom hopped on and was then turned towards the hole.

“Okay, so just touch these wires and it should the same, right?” the redhead asked a little weary, the wires sparking dangerously.

“Yes, but touch only with your hands,” the medic nodded.

“Okay…”

“Don’t worry, I got ya, shorty,” Jazz spoke softly, soothing her a little. While it didn’t completely settle the fear of being electrocuted and fried from the inside out, it was enough for her to gather enough courage to inch forward and grasp one of the wires. She let herself breathe a little when she didn’t suddenly turn into a light show or fly back, and took the time to notice she didn’t feel any different. It definitely wasn’t like how when she touched Jazz’s spark. Even if the whole “memories” part was excluded, she didn’t feel any stronger or more energized.

She held it a bit longer before releasing, “Ratchet, I’m not getting anything. I think the gloves are preventing anything from getting through. Should I try touching it without them? Although maybe not the, uh, _wire_ , but some other part? Like just the surface of the machine or something?”

“This is becoming dangerous, Ratchet,” Bumblebee spoke up, whirring unhappily. “While she is different now, she is still human, and electricity will harm her gravely.”

“A’right, guys, activate some coolant,” Jazz replied before the medic, though he kept his eyes on Catherine. “She’ll be okay, ‘Bee. She’s supposed ta do this, so have some faith. And, Go ahead and touch the wire, Shorty, and I’ll make sure ya don’t overload, yeah?”

“How can you be so sure?” the medic inquired, more confused by the saboteur’s strange behavior than anything else.

“Let’s just say ya learn a few things when ya offline,” he replied with a grin and glanced back quickly before looking back to nod at Catherine. The redhead kept a frown on her face, but she had a feeling Jazz was right even though the others didn’t look so sure. There was just something about the silver mech she knew she could trust; just like before. He wouldn’t have urged her onward if he didn’t think—no, if he didn’t _know_ she’d be okay. So, turning the frown into a determined crease of her lips, she pulled off the rubber glove and grasped the wire, bare-handed.

Her eyes widened at once as an even greater flux of energy poured through her. She gasped, watching her body suddenly light up in the blue linest. No memories came with it as she expected, and it did not last as long, either, for Jazz, true to his word, pulled her away barely even a full second after the initial touch. The world was much brighter than before now, and was made of a distinct ringing sound. It also felt very different. Her normal touch was superficial to the kind she had now. the silver mech’s armor tingled against her skin and she felt an alien concern fill her. She knew at once it was his feelings pouring into her again, but then it suddenly wasn’t just his. She looked up as a flow of worry surged into her, and she knew it came from the others who had started to huddle around her anxiously. She could see their mouths were moving and vaguely had a sense of what there were saying, but the ringing was still prevalent.

Then the world was moving, turning her towards Prime. Her eyes narrowed to focus on what was happening, but her deafness prevented any true recognition forming. She could feel the metal beneath her vibrate and then the hand holding her moved upwards. Prime was moving, too, towards her and he came to a stop just inches from her. At first there was nothing but a blank for the action, but then there was a pulling she knew all too well. It focused her mind better, locking in on the damage parts of the Autobot commander. Cuts; cracks; breaks; tears. She saw them and knew what she had to do. She stood up strongly and pressed her hands against Optimus’ chest.

At once she felt the energy within her rush out towards him, and there were sparks again. Only this time they were not so wild or hungry, but stayed upon Prime, latching onto his wound. They did not harm him, though, although he arched a little with surprised. Instead, they began to mend him just as they had for Jazz. They worked faster this time, reforming the lost metal and fixing dents or sealing cracks. They missed not one spot and reached all over, never stopping until, at last, the job was done and Optimus Prime was whole once more. Only then did the sparks stop, the glow of her body fade, and the world regain its sound. Only then did she remove her hands and stagger back as if to fall, but managed to steady herself with the help of Jazz’s thumb against her back.

“Prime! You’re… You’re healed! All of you!” Ironhide cried out. Catherine shook her head and looked at what the others marveled at. Sure enough, her surge of energy had healed Optimus Prime right up. His armor even looked like it had been given a wash or he was that pristine, right-out-of-the-box toy. He also looked completely surprised as he rolled his arms back and forth and turned his torso to look himself over.

“See? Told ya it’d be okay, didn’t I?” Jazz chuckled, and the redhead looked back at him with a lopsided grin.

“Yes, well, seeing as normally that would have killed me, I retain my right to be skeptical,” she laughed back.

“Your wounds are completely healed and you Energon readings are higher than they’ve been in ages!” Ratchet breathed, looking over his data panel. “I’ve already seen it and believe it, but still—this is incredible! To turn ordinary electricity into Allspark Energy!”

“But Catherine, are you alright? You are unharmed?” Bumblebee inquired, and the other heads turned towards her.

She looked at her hands for a moment before nodding, “Actually… yeah. I feel fine. I don’t feel tired at all! Just normal. So I guess this means we have a lot more training to do?”

There was an exchanging of looks before a rumble of agreement spread through them. Catherine’s smile brightened with excitement and joy, and not just for more practice. She was eager to spend more time with them and, knowing she could be ‘recharged’ and was able to heal Prime, their species might not be damned to extinction after all! There was hope yet for them, and she, originally their killer, was that hope. It was redemption unlike any she could have hoped for.

It was unfortunate then, that her joy was not shared by all, and her own sense of it made her blind to the concern in the eyes of the Autobot Commander and the reflection of it in the eyes of her silver carrier. And it would remain unknown, for when she did look up at them, it was gone and replaced with similar glows of her joy, but perhaps that was better. Ignorance was bliss.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _And that wraps up chapter nine! So we learn a bit more about the Allspark! Again, Prime's history and knowledge of it comes from the COMIC adaptations. A quick read up on the Wiki will fill in other details. And so we also learn she can recharge! And what better way than electricity? Luckily she has Energon in her blood and Allspark powers, so it doesn't kill her. That's always a good thing. I probably stretch things a little with that, but hey- it is the Allspark here. Who knows what it's done to her? ;)_

_So. I had fun making Ratchet really snarky/cheeky to S-7. I figured if anyone would be that way, it would be him. He just gave me that vibe. And Jazz is sneaky, sneaky, mmyesssssss. (if anyone gets that reference, go you!). And Ironhide. I don't know why, but I just can't help smiling when I see him just punching the hole int he wall. It's just so him! xD_

_And that's pretty much it for now. Kind of just a fill-in chapter without much excitement. I think the two part chapter is up next and then we get into some real good fun._


	11. Two Worlds Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -text- = Autobots talking via their internal communication link (a.k.a. comm. link); song from Tarzan - Two Worlds xD

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Although the Autobots and Catherine were eager to continue working with her powers—the redhead especially so—it was not to be. Sector Seven had not taken kindly to Ratchet’s misbehavior, and it wasn’t long before Ironhide rumbled about humans approaching. The Autobots moved quickly, placing Catherine down on the experiment table near Bumblebee, Jazz hoisting himself onto the free one, Ironhide moving near the saboteur’s table, and Prime and Ratchet standing at the ready with the Allspark shard in hand. The redhead watched, leaning against ‘Bee’s side with folded arms, as a group of soldiers lead by Tom Banacheck strolled in. Happiness was nowhere to be seen on their frowning faces, and she had to hold back the smile curving at the edge of her lips.

Ratchet and Prime were both well prepared for the human convoy, though, and they took Tom’s not-quite-shouting-but-really-close-to-it rant at the Autobots making the situation more difficult extremely well. ‘Extremely well’ meaning the medic grumbled under his breath and rolled his eyes while Optimus gazed down at them in respectable silence. When it was their turn to talk it began with letting Tom and his men know they found a way to remove the Allspark energy from Catherine’s body without harming her and that it was quite simple, but it would take time to get all of it out, so she’d need to return more than once for the duration of their stay. She wasn’t surprised to find her safety was hardly Sector Seven's concern as they essentially threw it out the window when they balked at how they had “cured” her. Prime showed them the shard, and Catherine was sure she saw the white of their eyes from where she stood, which was a fairly good distance.

And that quickly led into the explanation—the lie, she secretly smiled—of how the Allspark’s power still remained in the small slither of it, and that it was able to remove some of the energy residing within Catherine, but not all of it quite yet. Of course, even if it had they wanted to make sure there wasn’t going to be any side effects. Tom asked how they could be sure, and that led to pointing out Jazz, whom waved like it was no big deal. Again, the redhead could see the white of their eyes, and she almost couldn’t hold back her laughter. Thankfully, Bumblebee helped by nudging her hard enough to make pain override the humor. She stifled the laugh and watched as Tom Banacheck seemed to become more at ease knowing the shard had enough power to revive their kind. While it could have just very well been because it meant the man had found a bargaining chip for the alliance, Catherine wasn’t completely sure. And that worried her.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more time to worry as Tom suddenly became aware of her existence, and stated she would need to be returned and that they would discuss her coming back later. Ratchet affirmed he would expect her around the same time tomorrow, and would like to have at _least_ an hour to work, rather than twenty minutes. He wasn’t given a reply, but he took that as enough of a confirmation to gently pick up and place Catherine on the ground. She smiled sweetly at the agents, noting how they should hang out with the Autobots—they were great to talk to. They didn’t reply, and instead shuffled her into the middle of the convoy. She managed to say good-bye to the Autobots as they began to herd her to the exit, and Jazz and Bumblebee waved back while the others merely nodded. They were gone from sight as she turned around and followed the humans out. It didn't long for Tom to turn onto her, asking her questions, and she answered all of them with an innocent smile.

Back in the room, though, things were not so care free. Ratchet, his annoyance irked, found his way to vent in the form of going over Bumblebee’s injuries. The yellow Autobots wisely did not make any complaint or whine as the medic worked, nagging about the extent of the damage and how the materials he was going to use were insufficient. Ironhide made the mistake of nagging at the medic’s nagging, and was promptly silenced with a threat to dismantle his cannons and not repair them. The black mech turned away, barking that he would be in another room, and stalked off. Jazz remained on the table, training his optics on the frowning face of his leader, whom had yet to turn from the direction the humans had gone.

- _What’s going on up there, boss bot?-_ he asked over a private comm. link channel. Optimus didn’t flinch, long since used to the type of communication, but he did glance back at the saboteur as he sighed.

_-I am… thinking.-_

_-Let me guess… Worryin’ 'bout what ta do with Catherine, right?-_

This time he did turn to the silver mech, _-Yes. The best course of action would be to return her to the safety of her home, and we have already begun to set it into motion, but…-_

_-Ya want ta keep the Allspark near, yeah? I’m sure everyone else does, too, but it’s gotta be her choice. Ya know that.-_

_-Yes. I would not force her into any decision, and it already seems she will want to go home, too. But if she did wish to stay, how could we do so safely? That is what I cannot yet figure out.-_

_-Don’t worry too much, Prime. You’ll figure it out. Ya always do.-_ Jazz grinned, and Optimus nodded back.

_-Let us hope that whatever decision is made, it is the right one.-_

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_They could have at least told me if I’d get to see the Autobots again tomorrow for my ‘check-up’,_ the redhead scowled as she strolled through the open door leading back to the main room. She stuffed her hands into her jacket and stuck her tongue out at one of the guards for good measure. He merely stared at her as she passed, but he was long gone from her memory by then. Tom’s questioning was taking up most of it, after all. She couldn’t believe it, but that man had an even louder, more obnoxious voice than Simmons. Granted, it was only because he had gone on and on with the questions about what happened and what she saw. Evidently telling him it was like shocking a person with her finger wasn’t exactly good enough, and he started to ask all sorts of technical crap she didn’t know, so the walk mostly ended up with her staring at him dumbly as he relentless asked the same things over and over.

Her saving grace had come in the form of the closed doors separating her from the other room where her companions were and the soldier who told Tom they were here. The man had sighed with frustration and told her they’d talk “later”. How much later he wouldn’t say, and she hadn’t actually asked. He was a little too ruffled up for that, and she knew better than to keep antagonizing him, although she _really_ , _really_ wanted to. Of course, it was probably better to play the innocently-ignorant act with these guys. Letting them know you knew too much wasn’t the best idea, if their kidnapping just yesterday was proof enough

She let out a deep sigh, freeing herself from the thoughts, and instead pulled her hands out from her pocket as she began the final turn into the room. She plastered a foolish grin on her face and, rounding the corner, threw her arms out.

“I’m baaaack!” she shouted loudly and then set her hands onto her hips. “So. Did anybody miss _me_?”

“Catherine!” Sam shouted louder than the rest, leaping up from his seat to rush over to her. He embraced her quickly and then moved her around, looking her over. “Dude, are you okay? When you didn’t come out I thought—and then the soldiers told us to go back, and then—and then—”

The redhead grasped the boy’s shoulders, “Oi. Sam! First, it’s ‘dudette’ not ‘dude’. I’m a girl, remember? And secondly, I’m fine. Ratchet figured out how to use the Allspark shard to suck the juice right out of me.”

“Are you sure, ‘cause—wait,” he started, but then frowned. “Did you say 'Allspark shard'?”

“Yep. Let’s go sit down Sammy-boy. This is something you and everyone else are gonna want to hear about,” she grinned and, one arm draped around her friend’s shoulder, she turned him around and led him back to the couch.

“So what happened exactly? Sam here was just babbling about how you didn’t come out and then some other nonsense,” Lennox inquired, and Catherine appreciated the worried tone in his voice. She'd barely known him more than a few hours-- although she had shed some blood, sweat, and bullets along the way-- but he already considered one of his team. It was nice.

“Yeah, did the doc-bot dissect you or something? Sure felt like it with that crazy laser of his!” one of the soldiers added, looking like he was repressing a shiver.

“You got the chills, too? Man, it was like he was seeing right through ya!” a second called out, getting a round of agreement from the others.

“Okay, calm down guys—his name’s Ratchet and he’s actually a really nice guy. And he just happened to scan me and find some Allspark Energy in my body so he took me to where the others were. Oh, yeah—that Tom guy was _pissed_! Ratchet totally dissed him when he took me out! It was soo funny! But, uh, anyways,” Catherine laughed, getting a few grins from the others. “He took me to where the others are, and Optimus was there and he brought out a piece of the Allspark!”

“But,” Sam's frown deepened. “We held it. W-we destroyed it. I saw it. You saw it…”

She shrugged, “Turns out not all of it. So Prime held it out to me and I touched it and, well, it was kind of like getting shocked. Like, if you walk across a carpet and touch somebody. That kind of shock. Anyways, that happened and then the shard sparked a little and Ratchet scanned me again and said the level of Allspark energy was down or something.”

“So not all of it came out? You’ll need to go back?” Mikeala asked this time and Catherine nodded.

“Yeah, or so ‘doc-bot’ says. That and he wants me to keep coming to make sure it doesn’t have any side effects or anything.”

“Hold on, though, “Epps spoke up and jabbed two fingers at both the redhead and Sam. “You two were both holding that thing. Sam just said so, and I saw ya’ll do that freaky stuff with it. So how come pretty boy here didn’t have the Allspark energy stuff in him?”

“Um… well…” the boy began, rubbing the back of his head. Catherine, however, looked down at her arm. She knew by tone alone they weren't going to leave thingds alone without an explanation, and using the cut could probably fool them enough to not think anything more of it. After all, they already thought the shard of the Allspark was what had all the power—not her.

“I think it was because of this,” she began, rolling up her sleeve to the reveal the silvery-pink scar on her arm. In the light is had a sheen kind of like metal, and the others peered at it, mixed between curiosity and weariness.

“What kind of scar is that?” Maggie was the first to ask. “I’ve never seen one like it.”

“That’s because it’s my own skin cells mixed with some weird substance Ratchet used to heal my wound. I'm thinking it's made from some of the same stuff as them, and the Allspark reacts to them, so maybe it reacted to the scar and I got some of the energy. Makes sense to me, anyways.”

“What about that stuff—the Energon, right? Ratchet put some into you when you were out,” Mikeala suggested, and Catherine would have face-palmed and thrown a shoe at the girl at the same time if she didn’t want to keep her being the Allspark a secret. Of course someone had to go and say something. Sam she maybe could have figured saying it and tolerated it, but dark beauty over there on the other side of her best friend? Her patience was running thin, that was for sure. Still, she managed to keep her features under control as she prepared to reply. Until someone beat her to it.

“You’ve got _what_ inside you?” Glenn gasped, and again she wanted to face palm. What was with everybody and noticing things they shouldn’t? She already felt bad for lying to Sam about being the Allspark, and now it was just getting worse. Lies upon lies all piling up on her. She dreaded to think what the destruction would be if the dam holding the truth broke. Worst of all, the only good news was that she was good at faking her way through it all. And here she was trying to be a good person.

“Okay, look, it’s not really a big deal. Ratchet told me the Energon that got inside me is gone, too. My immune system ate it up and all that junk after I woke up, so it’s okay, alright?” she explained, thought she couldn’t keep some the exasperation from her voice. Unfortunately, her audience didn’t look like it had had enough. Her head was already falling on the back of the couch when Lennox looked at her.

“You better start from the beginning,” he told her, and she sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Basically, one of the ‘Cons was after Sam so I, uh, threw my bike at him, the giant robot came after me, it threw a car but missed for the most part. Got my arm, obviously, and then it was all about to crush me so I took a pole and stabbed it and some of this weird fluid spilled out and some of it got in my wound. Apparently it was some of the Energon stuff that they run on and it doesn’t mix well with human beings apparently, so Ratchet fixed me up. And there ya go.”

When she lifted her head she was pleasantly surprised to find the shocked looks on the soldier’s faces. Or, well, maybe not _shock_ , but they were impressed. She thought back on it, and she had to admit; stabbing the ‘Con—Barricade, she remembered—with a _pole_ of all things was pretty bad ass. Granted, at the time it was just an act of desperation, but it _had_ worked, and now she was getting some props for it. Better yet, she had a trophy scar to prove it. Oh, and there were the powers, too, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Damn, girl!” Epps laughs and then smacked at Lennox’s arm gently. “Hey, man, next time she fights with us give her a pole instead! She’ll show them bad guys a thing or too!”

“Actually, Epps, I would much prefer a gun, but thank-you for the vote of confidence,” she grinned back.

“So this fluid—this _Energon..._ it got into your body? What happened then?” Maggie pressed, and the redhead instinctively touched the scar, remembering.

“Well, it was like I had a really, really bad fever. Although, it went away for the part we were being attacked by that little tiny robot, but when we met the Autobots it got really bad. I felt like throwing up and things were really dizzy, and then I was out. Sam and Mikeala should know the rest, yeah?” she replied, looking over at the two.

Sam winced, “Oh, uh, yeah… It… It was actually kind of creepy. Your skin had turned all purplish-black and then the wound was leaking this weird color and it smelled really bad, too. We… I really thought you were going to die…”

Catherine frowned first, but then smiled and grasped his hand warmly. She quietly told him she didn’t die, and he smiled back, squeezing her hand, too. She looked back to her audience then, some of which had sympathetic winces on their face as they imagined what had happened. She could imagine it, too, and wrinkled her nose at the thought. She never did actually look at her wound before she fainted, but it must have been bad for Sam to say that.

“Anyways, what happened, happened, and I’m alive and well and that’s all that matters, so no use crying from thinking about what could have happened,” she spoke up loudly, folding her arms in a defiant manner. “And, frankly, it just means I might get to hang out with the Autobot more, which I, for one, find to be freakin’ awesome!”

“Sector Seven is really gonna let you?” Glenn inquired with a glint of excitement in his eyes.

She shrugged, “Hopefully. Ratchet might throw a fit if they don’t, and, well, let’s just say he’s one doctor you _don’t_ want to piss off, especially now that he knows about human anatomy.”

“So—so you think maybe we’ll get to see Bumblebee and the others soon?” Sam asked as he finished his small laugh.

“Hopefully,” she shrugged again, but then suddenly smiled. “And not just ‘Bee. Prime, Ironhide, and Jazz, too.”

She let the words sink in before her smile widened to her ears. Right on cue, Sam shot up again, shouting and attracting everyone’s attention. Laughing, she told him that, yes, Jazz was alive. That’s when the rest of the shouts and other similar expressions came up, and she began to explain how the shard was able to bring Jazz back to life, which was how they figured it could absorb the energy she had in her. She also told them they weren’t sure they could bring anymore back to life since it was only a small piece of the Allspark and so a lot weaker, but they were hoping to not ever be in a situation they would need to again. Of course, that led into interesting conversations about how they could just bring someone back to life or what to consider their kind. It was all very interesting, and Catherine let it go on with a pleased smile. None of them would suspect _she_ had the power now, and those Sector Seven goons no doubt listening in on them wouldn’t either.

The conversation actually went on for a long time. So long, in fact, that time was forgotten by everyone. Except that is, for their internal clocks, which promptly reminded them they needed sleep. As it turned out, their bodies were accurate with the actual tim as, not long after the first heads began to droop, Simmons returned to report they had rooms ready and it was way past some of their bed-times. Catherine noticed he was looking at the three of them in particular and she gave him a good “har-har” as they all got up to follow after him.

She expected the Agent to bother her, but Tom or somebody higher up must have said to leave her alone, because she didn’t have to suffer his antics through the hallways to a different area of the base they hadn’t been to before. There they came across hallways with more than just a few doors on either side. Apparently they were supposed to be paired up, two people per room. They were also expected to stay in their rooms all night, meaning no “adventuring”—he looked straight at her then—and that they’d be woken up around eight in the morning to have a little “discussion”. Sector Seven was being aloof as always, but they went with it.

The soldiers were paired up first and given the first row of rooms. Sam and Glenn were paired just as were Maggie and Mikeala, leaving Catherine the odd-man out. That was fine by her, though. She honestly didn’t feel like sharing a room with anyone, especially the dark-haired girl. Yes, she was a nice, respectable person, but the bitterness just couldn’t tolerate her at the moment. Catherine knew it was silly, but she was human after all. Well, mostly human, but she was still _her_. Granted, that should have meant she didn’t let it get to her, but then she decided that she should just say “fuck it” and brood—she had just saved the god damned world and become the new hope for an alien species after all! So, yeah, she was going to fuck any moral values and be bitter towards Mikeala for a little while longer. Just a little.

Needless to say, Catherine was happy to collapse onto the single bed where she buried her face into the pillow. It was oddly nostalgic, only this time the tears were missing, she noticed. Well, that was just fine. It was better that way, too. It meant she was doing okay. Why shouldn’t she be, anyways?

She didn’t bother to answer her own question as she curled up beneath the sheets and let her dreams take over.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Waking was pleasant despite the banging that woke her, and stretching felt more rejuvenating than usual. She also felt oddly happy and calm, and, after a moment, she recalled it was because of her dream. It had to be the strangest one she’d ever had. She recalled being a strange creature on an even stranger, yet familiar world. It had been made of the same metal she had beenl and there were other metal beings, which she knew and drank odd, glowing cubes with. She had talked to them, too, but she did not understand the words and yet at the same time she did. It had been all so strange, and when she thought harder she realized they were like memories. She had dreamed the memories of someone else—someone Cybertronian.

 _But it wasn’t the Autobots. At least, it didn’t feel like one of them_ , she hummed as she slid out of the bed. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but it definitely hadn’t been one of the five in the base. It was somebody else; somebody she didn’t know, but the Allspark had. Or, that’s what she figured. It was all just so strange, yet fascinating at the same time!

“Aaaaaand I smell,” she grumbled aloud, having wiped the sleep from her eyes with her sleeve only to take in a whiff of her jacket. It was reasonable, though, considering she hadn’t showered in what had to be two or three days now; she’d been walking around in the Hoover Dam for hours, been in the base for hours as well, and sweated and rolled in the grime and dirt for a good thirty-minute battle. It was no wonder she needed a shower and a new pair of clothes. A brush would be nice, too, and not just for her hair.

At least she wouldn’t be the only one since she was pretty sure no one else had brought an extra pair of clothes. Still, she knew she should at least clean up a little bit, and the room did have a decent little bathroom to do just that. It even had towels, which were a wonderful way to avoid getting her jacket sleeves wet instead. While it wasn’t perfect, the wash did a load of good: she felt refreshed and the smell wasn’t quite so bad. The smell from her body, anyways.

“Nothing I can do until I get some new clothes,” she mumbled as she headed towards the main door. “I swear to God if Sam has new clothes I am going to flip some shit.”

Luckily for the world, he didn’t, and neither did anyone else making their way out into the hall where a single agent waited. They had washed up a little, too, though, as shown by the wet hair-dos. From some of the dark circles under their eyes, she noted some people hadn't slept all that well. A few were soldiers, but she didn’t worry about them so much as she did Sam, who looked exhausted as he made his way over, rubbing at his eyes. Mikeala looked a little tired herself, but she was in much better shape than the young man.

“Sleep trouble?” the redhead asked her friend, and his groan was all the confirmation she needed. “What’s on your mind?”

“My parents,” he sighed, and Catherine nearly smacked herself for forgetting they had been taken, too. Then she thought of her parents and wondered how worried they might be. Sam groaned again, “I can’t believe I forgot about them! I don’t even know where they are or if my Mom’s gone and killed someone yet!”

“They’re probably in another Sector Seven base somewhere, and your mom was probably tranquilized, so I doubt she killed anybody,” the redhead reassured him, rubbing his back gently.

He smiled a little, “Yeah. probably. Still…”

“Go ask where they are—maybe they’ll bring them here. I mean, there shouldn’t be much reason not to bring them here, right?” Mikeala added, taking his hand and squeezing it comfortingly.

“Unless Mrs. Witwicky woke up and killed them all,” Catherine snickered, and Sam laughed this time.

“Yeah, you’re right. Well, Mikeala, anyways,” he began, casting the redhead a grin. “I don’t think my Mom would kill them all, sorry. And yeah, I’ll ask. I kind of need to talk to them about all this anyways, or Mom will go crazy and never let me leave the house.”

“Sam, I think it’s a little late for that. Anyways, looks like we’re heading out. Go try and get to the front and see if the agent will hear you out,” the redhead replied, pointing at their lone guide. Sam nodded once and headed off, leaving the two girls alone. Neither one said much as they followed after. Catherine merely stuffed her hands into her jacket and Mikeala walked with that pretty-girl-strut of hers. Though the thought sounded coarse in her head, the redhead realized she didn’t feel so bitter anymore. At the moment, anyways-- she couldn’t keep herself from glancing over at the black-haired girl, looking over and comparing herself. Like always, she didn’t really stand a chance int he looks department even when the girl didn’t have all her make-up on.

“So, Catherine,” the dark-haired girl began, surprising the redhead whom looked over with a raised brow. “How long have you known Sam again?”

“Since birth, I think. Long as I can remember, anyways,” she shrugged back, and she couldn’t help smiling when she saw the flicker of worry in Mikeala’s eyes. Or was it jealousy? Either way, it made Catherine feel better about herself. That is, until she figured out how selfish that was, and felt bad again.

“And you guys have always been _just_ friends?”

 _Ah._ That _question. Yes. I hate to inflate your bubble, but yes._ Just _friends. Best friends. Compadres. Amigos. Not lovers or even ex-lovers. Not even 8th grade dance date. You’re clear for landing in Sam-Romance airlines, ‘cause you’re the only one flying it_.

“Yeah. Just friends,” she said instead, and, smiling to hide her frown, she continued, “Seriously. Stop worrying. Sam’s all yours, Mikeala. He’s had a crush on you since I think 5th grade or something. Maybe 6th? I forgot, but it’s been a long time.”

“Oh,” the girl breathed, her lips forming into a smile, but then vanished as she realized the redhead was looking. “So, um… what’s Sam like? Outside of saving the world and alien robots, I mean?”

“Now, now, Mikeala. If I told you all his secrets that would be cheating,” Catherine hummed back, but, seeing the disappointment on her face, she sighed. “But I guess I can give you a _hint_. He’s... essentially a nerd. The good kind of nerd, I mean, not the dorky, super-smart kind. And he’s funny when he’s not trying, and he’s the carrying type, too. He can be awkward sometimes, but it’s usually because he’s nervous, so don’t worry about that. Just kind of laugh it off.”

“You know him really well, huh?”

She frowned, biting her tongue for a second, “Yeah, well, ‘best friend’ over here ‘n all.”

“Catherine… did you… do you _like_ Sam?”

The redhead nearly tripped, but she, thankfully, didn’t. She just knew that would have given everything away. Instead, she managed to keep walking straight and shook her head to make up for the pause that would have given her away, too. She smiled, but couldn’t help fearing it would give her away too as she looked straight at Mikeala.

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend. I wouldn’t be that if I didn’t.”

She rolled her eyes, “You know what I mean, Catherine.”

 _Yeah, I do. And no, I don’t like him. I love him._ “No, not like that. We’re just friends.”

And that was the end of that; Mikeala became silent with possible satisfaction. Whatever the case, Catherine didn’t look back to check. She didn’t want to give away her lie. She wouldn’t be able to believe it herself if someone else didn’t. The fact she did have to come to believe, though, forced her to bite her tongue again. Knowing the only way to get better was to stop loving him hurt more than anything else—even knowing she couldn’t have him. To have to love him as something else if she could ever keep it as love…

_No, come on, girl. Not now. Not now! You were doing fine, so stop it! You’re fine! You’re fine! You’re fine! You’ll be fine! You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine…_

And when Sam came back with the good news that he might see his parents soon, she was fine for the most part. She even showed her happiness for him, all the while forcing herself to silently believe her lie.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

As it turned out, their little sojourn through the halls was to bring them to a meeting room where Tom Banachek and Simmons gave a talk about what they were going to be doing now. The soldiers were to be taken to a briefing with the government over the alliance and the possibilities of a combined military force. Maggie and Glenn were going to be taken to meet with Sector Seven to discuss maybe working with them-- the Aussie having found Frenzy’s sound when others couldn’t, and Glenn for having been able to decipher a little of it. Sam, Mikeala, and Catherine, on the other hand would be debriefed on what they were to do when they went home. That was good and all, but more than a few people were wondering when they would get to meet with the Autobots. That was a difficult question for the two Agents, but it was eventually decided that they could meet with the Autobots so long as they were escorted to an open room with guards there. The guards were booed, but the prospect of meeting up with their alien friends was exciting and taken.

That said, the meeting didn’t last much longer, and all three groups were sent to their prospective areas. The three teens remained in the room where Simmons drilled them on what to say. He was overly obnoxious and pompous for some reason, but they took it well enough and even went along with it to where the man was satisfied. He made an attempt to drill Catherine about her Allspark energy crap, but that was waved off as being fixed and she’d be back to normal in no time and to stop “sniffing” her. Sam and Mikeala backed her up, and the agent was quickly fended off, giving them leave to go visit their friends.

The guards were a little reluctant to take them, but with one call and confirmation the teens were led to what felt like the complete other side of the base into a large, open area. There they found Ironhide and Jazz standing about looking bored. Granted, bored for Ironhide meant antsy and about to shoot something. While the three teens had no problems with it, their guards did and refused to move any closer than the door. That was all the better for the three, and all hurried over, Mikeala and Sam a little slower due to gaping up at Jazz.

“You’re really alive!” the dark-haired boy exclaimed, and the silver mech laughed.

“Sure am, kid. So what’s crackin’, little bitches?”

“C’mon, Jazz, you can’t just keep using the same lines. Think of something new, man,” Catherine grinned back.

“Just thought it’d be cool ta open up with a familiar phrase is all. Don’t gotta be so mean ta me, shorty.”

Sam and Mikeala glanced at the redhead as both asked, “’Shorty’?”

“My nickname, apparently,” she replied sheepishly, and then strolled closer. “So, Ironhide! You look like you’re having fun.”

“Standing around doing nothing is hardly what I would call ‘fun’,” the black mech rumbled.

“And that’s why it’s called ‘sarcasm’, big guy. What are you guys doing in here, anyways?”

“Them Sector Seven dudes told us we couldn’t hang with ya guys unless we were in this place, so here we are,” Jazz mused. “Not that they could keep us here ‘n all. Right, ‘Hide?”

“It’s been long enough since I used my cannons,” the black mech rumbled, eyeing the wall carefully.

“Oookay now, let’s not get carried away guys. I think S-seven is freaked out enough,” Sam spoke up, finally over whatever shock had kept him from speaking before. “But, um, where are the others, by the way? Is… Is ‘Bee okay?”

“Don’t ya worry yourself, kid. Docbot is takin’ good care o' ‘Bee. He finally got some supplies in so he’s fixing ‘em up as we speak,” the silver mech smiled, and the dark-haired bow visibly relaxed.

“And Optimus?” Mikeala asked this time.

“He is speaking with your government and the soldiers about the alliance. He won’t be back for some time,” Ironhide mused, unhappiness lingering in his tone.

“Oh… Well, um, do you think, maybe, we can go see Ratchet and ‘Bee?” Sam asked.

Catherine waggled a finger at him, “Now, Sam. That would be breaking the rules and Simmons would get very, very angry with us.”

“Frankly, Simmons can stuff it,” Mikeala replied, earning her a grin from the redhead.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Jazz smirked and lowered his hand. “Just hop on ta my hand and I’ll be ya escort.”

“If that’s the case, then I’ll take my leave,” Ironhide stated, already turning away.

“Wait, where are you going?” Catherine inquired as she stepped onto the silver mech’s hand.

He didn’t bother to pause or look back, “There are many rocks outside that need to be removed.”

“What?” Sam asked softly as the redhead laughed.

“He’s just going to blow off steam, now come on,” she replied, holding her hand out to him. He grasped it and hopped on, then turned back to help Mikeala. Behind them, shouts of concern came from the guards, but all they were given were innocent waves and an explanation about the three of them going to hang out with the other Autobots. The guards could only look on stupidly as Jazz gave them a two-fingered salute and walked off into the tunnel at the opposite side of the room. Only when the robot was out of sight did one guard sigh and mention he’d make the call.

Jazz and his charges, however, were excited about meeting up with Ratchet and Bumblebee. Although it had been a little uneasy for the first few steps, Sam and Mikeala soon became comfortable with sitting on the silver mech’s hand. It helped that the walk wasn’t long, and, soon enough, Ratchet’s lime-green armor came into view. Below him and at the mercy of his hands were Bumblebee and piles of metal, which the medic was using to build new legs. The dedicated worker didn’t even look up as Jazz approached, but the yellow Autobot did and whirred happily at the sight of the three of them, especially Sam, whom he called out to.

“Stop fidgeting!” the medic growled, smacking ‘Bee on the head. The yellow Autobot beeped unhappily, but did as was told. Jazz was kind and set the teens near Bumblebee’s torso-- far enough away from the working medic, but still close and comfortable enough to talk with their friend.

“How’s it going, Docbot?” the silver mech inquired, and the medic flashed a quick glare before going back to his work.

“Well enough, but now that you’ve brought _distractions_ I can’t say for sure,” he growled, picking up a metal piece and welding it to another already attached to Bumblebee’s leg stubs.

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy, Ratchet. We’ll stay out of the way,” Catherine replied, waving the medic off. He merely grunted in reply, not amused, but not in the mood to gripe back, either. That was well enough for them, and Sam, wincing at his friend’s legs, came up to touch Bumblebee’s arm.

“So… So you’re really okay, buddy? I mean, well, you’re going to be okay?”

“Yes, Sam. I will be fine, but more importantly, are you alright? You were not badly damaged? The humans would not let Ratchet tend to you, and I could not see for myself,” the yellow Autobot spoke, his eyes looking over Sam carefully.

The boy laughed, “Yes, yes, I’m fine, ‘Bee. We’re pretty tough, too, ya know. I’m just glad you’re okay!”

“As am I. For all of you. Unless, you, Mikeala, are harmed…?”

“No, I’m fine, too, ‘Bee. You don’t need to worry—we did that badass tag team move, remember?” the dark-haired girl laughed, and the yellow Autobot smiled back brightly as he nodded.

His head tilted, though, as he recalled something, “I did not think you could not come into this vicinity. Has something changed?”

“Naw, but it was no fun bein’ in that borin’ ‘ol room back there, so I brought ‘em here,” Jazz chuckled. The welding sounds stopped abruptly, and Ratchet looked up from his work to glare at the silver mech. The Autobot in question promptly took a step back, raising his hands up in defense.

“When the humans come barging in, _you_ will deal with them,” he growled and then went back to work. There was going to be no argument and all of them, especially Jazz, knew it. He took it with a smile, as did the others, although they—meaning Sam and Mikeala—exchanged weary glances. Catherine was the one to ease them, clasping both of them on the shoulders.

“Guuuuys, chill. They did this when I was here yesterday, and it was fine. S-seven just barked without any bite, so relax, okay?” she chuckled and, seeing their expressions brighten a little, she released them. While they became preoccupied with Bumblebee—asking him questions about anything and answering his own—the redhead turned around to face the silver mech, smiling up at him and he returned it. She stepped near the edge and, already guessing what she wanted, he held out his hand for her to hop onto. He lifted her up to his shoulders, which she gladly stepped onto and grasped one of his side “horns” for balance. She cast the other two one, final glance before Jazz turned, putting them out of sight, and started off in whatever direction he had in mind.

“So how ya holdin’ up, shorty?” he inquired, and she shrugged.

“Pretty good, I guess. Woke up fine, anyways. Things got a little tricky yesterday, though. Had to make up some good excuse using my scar and lettin’ them know you’re alive.”

“Looks like ya did okay, though, am I right?”

“Well, since I’m not being experimented on, yeah. I hate lying to all of them, though. The soldiers are good guys-- especially Lennox, but that’s just probably ‘cause he makes me feel like I’m part of his group. He's still a good guy, I mean. I hate lyin’ to Sam especially, but…” she trailed off, turning back only to find the curve of the wall instead.

“Sometimes we gotta lie ta the ones we care for,” the silver mech mused, drawing Catherine back in time so see the somber look in his eyes. It was reflected in hers soon enough and she smiled with a mixture of sadness and bitterness.

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” she replied softly, then turned to him, “At least I don’t have to lie to you guys about that stuff. Hopefully not about most things, either. Call it weird, but I feel as bad about lying to you guys as I would Sam.”

“Nothin’ weird about that, and we wouldn’t want ya ta feel like ya have ta lie ta us, either. 'Course, ya can’t lie ta the Jazz-mech, so don’t even try, shorty,” he smirked challengingly.

She laughed, “Now I’m tempted! But I’ll try my best _not_ to. By the way—where _are_ you taking me, ‘Jazz-mech’? I don’t think it’s good for a ‘guardian’, I think you called it, to take their charge to strange, unknown places.”

“Aw, c’mon, girl, ya don’t trust me? Ya hurt my spark,” he chuckled back, grasping at his chest dramatically.

“Oh, I’m just teasing. I know you’re looking out for me. Thanks for that, by the way,” she grinned back.

“Your Allspark senses telling ya that?”

She raised a brow, “You could say that, but how’d you know? Don’t be lying to me now, Jazz. If this relationship is going to work you can’t be lying to me.”

“Depends on what kind of relationship we talkin’ about,” he countered and she shrugged, frowning.

“I dunno to be honest. You’ve been calling yourself a ‘guardian’, so I figure that’s like a big—well, _really_ big in your case—brother kind of thing, so that one? And don’t avoid my question, darn you!”

“Alright, alright, ya got me!” he laughed. “Anyways, let’s just say that when I was in the place ya found me I learned a few things. Don’t go asking about that, though. I’m not really supposed ta tell unless I gotta. Just know I’m always lookin’ out for what’s best for ya. Always. I owe ya for bringin’ me back, anyways, and don’t tell me I don’t have ta because I died ta keep ya guys safe. You bringing me back was a lot more than that, and ya powers are proof o' it.”

Catherine gazed at him for a good long moment before smiling softly, “Okay. I trust you.”

“Glad ta hear it, and ta answer your original question: nowhere. Figured ya wouldn’t mind just walkin’ around and talkin’ with ya ‘big bro’.”

“You know what? You’re right. I don’t mind. In fact it’s doing a load of good,” she replied, leaning against the side of his head. “You are one damn good spy—you know everyone way too well.”

“Well, I’m the best o' the best,” he winked, or she thought it was a wink. It was really just one of his eyes blinking off then back on. Regardless, it gained a quick laugh from the redhead. He chuckled a little himself before sobering some. “So what’s on ya mind?”

“To be honest, I’m really just worried about the whole powers thing. What if someone finds out? What’s going to happen to me? What will they all think? Will I be able to prevent that? Will I be able to control the powers? What if I can’t? What if I lose my powers, too? And if don’t, what can I do with them? So many question, Jazz, and I can’t begin to answer one. Not yet, and some of them I never want to have to answer. Especially the ones about Sam…”

She lost her voice then, the name suffocating any other words. She hadn’t honestly meant to talk about that so suddenly, but she hadn’t been lying when she said she trusted Jazz. Hell, she felt like she really could tell him anything. It was comforting, of course, but it was also a little scary. She couldn’t really recall feeling so trusting of anyone, except maybe Sam and that had taken years and had its limits, but here she was with Jazz who’d she barely known half a week. Still, it didn’t feel _wrong_. A little frightening, but not wrong.

“Ya wanna talk about him?” he asked gently.

She wanted to say yes. She also wanted to say no. She knew she would need to one day. Maybe. People always told her it was better to talk about things that troubled her, but what if she couldn’t even trust herself when talking about it? Should she still talk about it, then? Was it too soon to even talk about him? When it would stop being too soon, anyways? Truth be told, she didn’t know, and that was the little bit her two warring parts needed to decide the victor.

“No. Not really. Can we… Can we just talk about something else? You can’t tell me about my powers I’m guessing, so can we just talk about Cybertron or something? I think I left you guys when you were talking about the different classes?”

She silently thanks the silver mech for not giving her a sympathetic smile or anything that looked like pity as he kept walking, his face facing forward in their unknown direction. It made forgetting the dangerous thoughts all the easier. And once the silver mech began to talk about how there were warriors like Ironhide for defense, Scientists like Optimus before the War for science, and teacher classes for teaching hatchlings, the memories of the young man were small slivers in the back of her mind, overtaken by the new world she had become a part of. 

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**TMWolf:** _Alrighty, there's chapter 10 part 1. So now some people know about the scar, but they don't know her powers and they think the shard's the source! Go Catherine-my-pants-are-on-fire! Also, more confusing and complicated actions and angst and all the good teenager stuff mixed with giant, alien robots!_

_Part 2 up next XD_


	12. Two Worlds Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Part 1, and same song :) More relationship building and world exploring~

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“Okay, now this might be a little too personal, but I just _have_ to know,” Catherine began, using her hands to emphasize the “have to”, and Jazz raised a mechanical brow at her. “Do you guys have, like, relationships? Like besides brothers in arms. For instance, do you guys have relatives like brothers, or boyfriends and girlfriends?”

The silver mech chuckled, “I was beginnin’ ta wonder when ya would ask me that. And for ya first question: yeah, we got ‘em. I personally know two pairs o' Twins. If ya wanna know how that works, ask Ratchet. He’d be better at explaining it than I would. Otherwise, we just consider close companions or brothers-in-arms as brothers. For the second: not really. At least, not in the way ya are used ta thinkin’. We don’t reproduce like ya organics and we don’t really have genders like ya humans think o' them as. But, yeah, some of us have something like that ‘relationship’ thing o' yours. Best ta ask Ratchet about that, too. He knows more than I do.”

“Oh my god, so cool!” the redhead squealed. “We’re two totally different kinds of organisms, but we’re actually a lot of alike! This is the best thing ever!!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoyin’ it. Ya humans ain’t so bad ta learn about either,” he chuckled back.

She gasped suddenly, “Oh jeez, I’m sorry, Jazz! I’ve just been askin’ you so much you haven’t gotten to ask me anything! So much for ‘you-ask-one-I-ask-one’, huh?”

“Naw, it’s all good. It’s easier for me ta learn about ya guys anyways. Internet, remember? And I don’t mind talkin’ 'bout Cybertron. It’s good ta think about home sometimes.”

Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it. Her eyes fell as she frowned, realizing the meaning of his words. She had completely forgotten they couldn’t go home. Yes, the Allspark was technically still intact and they could possibly make more of their kind, but there was no way they could take her to their home to revive it. She wouldn’t be able to survive the trip even with the Autobots more advanced technology. They were stuck here on this planet that couldn’t know they existed—a place where the people would no doubt become hostile if they did. The Autobots had nowhere to go, and they were at the mercy of its inhabitants. Earth was to be their new home, but some home it was.

"Oh, Jazz…” she spoke softly, and the silver mech stopped walking to use a clawed finger to raise her chin.

“Don’t ya be feelin’ sorry for me o' for any of us, shorty. We knew what the consequences were when we decided ta destroy the Allspark. Pit, we knew what we were doin’ when we sent it off o' Cybertron,” he assured her firmly. “And, ta be honest, I doubt the Allspark coulda saved Cybertron anyhow. It was too far gone and we woulda have ta leave it eventually, anyways. Anyone stayin’ behind woulda just bein’ stubborn ‘n foolish, so don’t ya feel bad for us. Besides, Earth’s a pretty cool place ta chill.”

She took a few moments to smile and nod, “Even with all the hostile little organics on it?”

“Even with all the little hostile organics, including short, redheaded ones,” he smirked and she giggled.

“I’m only short compared to you! I’m actually a few inches above average in height!” she retorted, jabbing a finger at him.

“Whatever ya say, shorty,” he chuckled, shaking his head, but then suddenly perked up. “Hate ta end the good time, but we gotta get back ta Ratchet ‘n the others. Seems like S-Seven’s comin’ ta pick ya up.”

She groaned, “Already? We barely even got started! Can’t they just leave us alone? Honestly! We’re just having a good time!”

“Technically we been walking about fo' 'bout two of ya hours. And not everybody thinks that way, unfortunately. We already got some o’ their feathers ruffled; probably shouldn’t make it any worse, yeah?”

“No, let’s make it worse.”

The silver mech didn’t need to see the silly grin on her face to know she was kidding, and laughed along with her as he adjusted their course, taking them down a hall to their right. She thought she recognized it, but then she had been so caught up with talking that it wouldn’t be possible for her to know where she was. She smiled, though, knowing she had been able to hang out with her big brother-guardian—as it was now apparently—for two hours! She hadn’t let time just fly by either; she had already learned so much more about their culture! They were more like humans than she could have imagined, although more like a better kind of human. Well, the _Autobots_ were, anyways. She knew their race could be just as bad as a human criminal or worse—Megatron, for instance— but she couldn’t help _not_ making the five of them out to be bad in any way. They were just too awesome for that.

She looked over at Jazz, her smile brighter and a little less mischievous. She was glad he was her guardian and, more importantly, her friend. Normally she wouldn’t consider someone she barely knew a friend—perhaps an acquaintance or companion at best—but he was different. So were the others, although she hadn’t spent enough time with them just yet. Still, she could confidently consider the silver mech her friend, or at least her ideal of a friend. And it was nice. It was nice to know he cared, that he wanted to talk with her, and wanted to look out for her, even if it was because she was the Allspark. Yet, Jazz wasn’t the kind of guy to do all that just because she was their life-giving artifact, or she was pretty sure of that, anyways. He’d been kind to her before her change, after all, and he didn’t treat her like she was the Allspark. No, he treated her like she was still just Catherine—still just her.

“What’re ya lookin’ at me like that fo', shorty?” he grinned, and she blinked in surprise, not realizing he had looked over.

She flushed a little as she grinned back, “Oh, just thinking is all, and no I’m not going to tell you about what. Granted, you’ll probably figure it out somehow being a spy and all.”

He chuckled again and she looked away, smiling only to herself now, and kept busy watching the walls pass by and wondering how the robot even knew where they were going. Whatever the reason, it only took a few more minutes before they were passing underneath a familiar archway that led them into a darker, familiar room where Bumblebee still lay at the mercy of Ratchet’s working hands, and Sam and Mikeala were still talking with him. Although, it was more of Sam talking and Mikeala watching them, smiling at the young man’s childish demeanor around his “car”.

Jealousy burned at Catherine’s insides a little, but she quelled it with the thought that she had her own alien friend to talk with and to protect her, too, and Jazz was _way_ better. Even if he didn’t have those adorable blue, child-like eyes, or the adorable whirring and facial expressions, or that British accent. There was no comparison. None at all.

_And I’m totally lying to myself. Bumblebee looks so cute talking to them like that!_ She gushed, making the “aww” face. She counted herself lucky nobody—not even her transportation— noticed because she had a feeling it was be hard to explain why she found it cute. Oh, and Jazz would undoubtedly tease her for it. He already had enough one-ups on her; he didn’t need anymore.

“Good, you’re back,” Ratchet spoke, though his eyes were still trained to the piece of metal he was welding. “The humans should be here anytime soon, so I hope you have some explanation prepared for them.”

“No worries, ‘Ratch. Got it all figured out,” the silver mech grinned as he set Catherine down beside the other two teenagers. She smiled at both—Sam more so than Mikeala—and joined them in their Indian-style sit. She waved at Bumblebee when he welcomed her back, and then took a few moments to look down at his legs. Ratchet was doing incredible by her standards. Granted, it could actually be slow for him, but, in her opinion, already having both legs already extended to the knee joint was phenomenal! ‘Bee could easily be up and walking within the week if the medic didn’t run out of materials.

“So where’d you and Jazz go, anyways? You were gone for a long time,” Sam inquired, and she turned to him with a mischievous grin.

“Oh, just around,” she replied, using an arm wave to gesture. “We were just talkin’ in stuff. What about you guys? Just talking?”

“Pretty much. Bumblebee’s been pretty curious about human interactions, like how Sam and I are,” Mikeala replied, smiling shyly as she glanced at Sam, whose ears turned bright red as he looked down and rubbed the back of head. Catherine felt the coldness set into her twisting stomach, but she handled it well as she looked between them with a raised brow.

“So it is for sure official then?” she inquired, and it felt like acid on her tongue and in her throat.

“So you really are okay with it?” her friend asked, his eyes already pleading. How could she say no to him? He was so happy whenever he looked at the dark-haired girl and held her hand. Mikeala was also happy with him, and, when Catherine looked, the dark-haired girl’s eyes wanted her to say yes, too.

_Well, at least she does want my approval._ “Of course I am, Sam. You two got some good chemistry. Beauty and the Geek, am I right? Besides, there’s nothing like an alien war to bring people together.”

Their happiness that all but exploded onto their faces was all she needed to know they were thankful, although the redhead could have done without their fingers lacing together or Mikeala pressing her lips to his like it was so easy. It probably was for her. She’d probably had a lot of guys and had more than enough practice with that steroid-monster Trent.

She held back her grimace as she looked up at Bumblebee, whom was watching the two teens curiously. He looked happy for them, although he didn’t really seem to understand. He glanced over at Catherine for a moment, and when his expression suddenly changed to concern, she knew she had given something away. She looked back down quickly, pretending to become interested in Ratchet’s work. Thankfully, Bumblebee made no move towards her. Instead, while she was looking away he turned his head to Jazz, whom was standing further away, waiting for Sector Seven. No human would hear it, but words passed between them, causing the silver mech to turn around to look at his charge and then reply back just as quietly. Nothing more was done, though, and Bumblebee returned his attention to his three companions.

Sam turned to meet the Autobot's blue eyes, “I can’t wait for when we finally get to go home! All the other guys are going to be so jealous when they see you! And Miles! I can’t wait to see what he thinks!”

“Aw, what about me Sam? Don’t tell me your car beats me,” Mikeala pouted, though she smiled as she put her chin on his shoulder. He turned, mouth agape is if caught in something naughty and she giggled.

“No! I—I didn’t meant _that_ , I just— well, uh,” he fumbled, and the dark-haired girl laughed as she kissed his cheek.

“I was just teasing.”

He grinned, “I knew that.”

Catherine snorted, not able to ignore their conversation. Sam gave her a look, but she only gave a “what” expression back. It was let go, and she found herself watching them. As much as she hated to admit it, they weren’t a bad couple—probably a better one than what she could have been with him, anyways. Mikeala made Sam nervous like she couldn’t, although that was mainly because Sam didn’t need to be nervous around her after almost seventeen years together. Of course, that didn’t compare with the disappointment in realizing Mikeala made him happy like she couldn’t, but she had come to some kind of terms with that. It was like twisting the knife more instead of stabbing a new one into her heart. Yes, it was painful, but it was a pain she could endure and which only ached rather than exploded.

_Then there’s the new powers business. Pretty sure Sam would prefer a normal girlfriend that didn’t bring dead robots back to life. That’s better suited to the ‘friend’ category_ , she huffed, stuffing her hands into her jacket’s pocket. _Well, that’s what I figure. Maybe I should just tell them and find out. I guess he does kind of deserve to know…_

She locked her gaze onto Sam, whom had begun to talk with Bumblebee again, and the longer she gazed, the less that desire grew. In fact, it shrank. In part it was because she didn’t want him to reject her if he knew, and the other part was because that “guess” wasn’t very strong. Maybe he did deserve to know after being friends for so long, but then again, maybe he didn’t, and that’s when she realized some of that bitterness swarming through her wasn’t just for Mikeala. She frowned, wondering how she could even think that—Sam was her best friend. She loved him! How could she be angry at him? It had to be a mistake. She was probably just confusing it for her feelings towards Mikeala. That had to be it.

Luckily for her, Sector Seven decided to enter the room. This time it was only Tom Banacheck and three guards, and they didn’t look as nearly pissed. In fact, he was actually very civil when he spoke with Jazz about how they would _appreciate_ it if they would do as S-Seven asked and not take the “children” wherever they pleased. The silver mech assured them they were fine and they shouldn’t worry. Besides, they were having fun. Tom countered that they were welcome to have fun as long as they could be watched, so Jazz asked if they could have a room where they could actually sit or relax. The conversation somehow managed to dwindle down from there as Tom’s pride, patience, and sanity must have had enough, and he said they’d look into it, but they’d like to take the kids back, which was agreed to except for one little thing.

“Excuse me, Agent Banacheck,” Ratchet spoke up loudly, shutting off his welding tools and turning towards them. “But I would like Catherine to remain here for a scan and, when Optimus returns, to extract more of the Allspark energy if need be.”

“The meeting won’t be done for a while. I’ll gladly bring her back later when it’s adjourned,” Tom replied, and Catherine could swear she saw a muscle twitch on his balding forehead.

“That will waste time. I’ll begin the scans while we wait for the meeting to end so there’s less to do,” the medic rumbled back. “I realize you are still unsure of our motives, but I believe we have clearly showed our desire to cooperate with your species and not bring harm towards you. It would be _appreciated_ if you would grant us some trust, Agent Banacheck.”

For a good full minute, human and Autobot had a stare down which ultimately ended with the agent sighing and, rubbing his brow, agreeing. Pleased, Ratchet thanked him and bade Sam and Mikeala good-bye, both of whom used Jazz’s hand as their way down. Catherine waved as they did so, telling them not to worry and that she’d be back before they knew it. She also told them to not “eat each other’s faces”, which got her one flustered look and one laugh. Then they were leaving with the agents and she was alone with the Autobots again. It felt good, and, with a sigh, she leaned against Bumblebee’s armor.

“So what’s the plan for today, doc?” she called out. “We know how to recharge my powers, so do we want to see if I can control them?”

“Precisely,” was his quick reply, and the redhead leaned up to peer over at him. “As I’ve stated before, the metals here on Earth aren’t as strong as Cybertronian metal, but I believe the Allspark’s energy may be able to alter their composition as it is able to essentially recreate our armor when it repairs our own kind.”

She stood up, walking closer, “Okay… So I’m going to power up and touch ‘Bee’s legs then?”

“It is what I would like to you do, although you mentioned you wanted to control your powers? I assumed you were able to with Prime’s repairs...”

“No—I felt that pulling again and my body kind of moved on my own. That’s going to be a problem later on if I don’t figure out how to repress and control it.”

“Indeed… Unfortunately, I doubt I will be of help in regards to that—you may be on your own. I am not sure even Prime would know,” the medic rumbled uneasily, and Catherine shared the feeling.

“Well, I’ve had to figure a lot out on my own, so this will just be another on the list,” she shrugged. “I’ll just have to test it out and see… so… Uh, back to the electricity?”

“It has worked the best, though perhaps an outlet without so much power will make things easier,” Ratchet rumbled, moving away from the table towards the hole Ironhide had made yesterday. He rubbed his metal chin thoughtfully before transforming his hand into a new tool Catherine had yet to see. Its purpose was lost to her until she saw it spark just as the medic reached in and clamped it onto the main console the wire came from. The machine flickered and buzzed, and the lights suddenly dimmed. Satisfied, he turned towards her.

“There. The current to the wire has been reduced to about thirty-five percent. You should not be overloaded with the energy this time. Jazz?”

The silver mech’s hand was beside Catherine at once and she clambered on, using his thumb for balance. He brought her over like they did yesterday, but unlike before, she didn’t hesitate to reach out and grab the wire. She felt a flux of energy pour into her, but not as rough or as fast as her previous attempt. It was more like the steady current of a deep river; she could feel the press of the flow, but it did not pull her under or downstream without her wanting. She could feel the power growing within her as well; could feel the pull becoming stronger. Already it was calling her towards the medic, seeking out the wounds he had. She growled, much to her surprise, when Jazz pulled her away. He brought her close, using his fingers to keep her from moving.

“Ratchet, keep back. She wants ta heal ya, but she’s gotta stop herself ta control it,” the silver mech spoke, applying as much pressure was needed to keep her in place. The medic raised a metal brow, but did as told, keeping well beyond Catherine’s reach. The movement frustrated the redhead, but she knew it wasn’t really her own frustration—it was that of whatever controlled her. It was stronger than she thought despite the halved energy absorption, and it made her limbs act on their own, trying to pry Jazz’s fingers out of her way although she told them not to.

"C’mon, shorty. If ya wanna control it, then ya gotta control yourself. Ya gotta keep the power in ya,” she heard him say, and his words acted as an anchor. He was right; she had to control herself if she wanted to control her powers. It was also _her_ body—not some mystical-Allspark-voodoo-crap-power’s body! _Hers_! She was the only one who got control it, and there was no way in hell she wasn’t going to be made a guest in her own flesh!

_Damn it, damn it, damn it! Come on, Catherine!_ She snarled, fingers tightening around the metal digit holding her back, though no longer tried to push it out of the way. She squeezed her eyes shut as she battled whatever was pulling her. She didn’t need the damn thing to tell her to repair or revive the Autobots—she already wanted to do that! All she needed was for the power to work when she wanted, so the “pull” could fuck off for all she cared! She didn’t need it; especially when it could ruin her friendships with Sam and Lennox and the soldiers, and cause more chaos and destruction for her home and the new home of the Autobots!

_Stop!_ She howled, and it did. Her eyes flashed open with surprise, and she half expected the pull to come back, but it didn’t. The pull was gone, but the power—the Allspark energy—was still there. She could still feel it thrumming through her veins, and her skin was still glowing with the thin, blue lines. She moved her hands, looking down at the palms, and it was done by her own will. Her body was her own; nothing pushing her; nothing telling or showing her what to do. She smiled on her own, too, and looked up happily at Jazz.

“’Atta, girl,” he smiled at her. “Now let’s see ya use it.”

Catherine nodded, any doubts of failure incapable of forming as Ratchet and Jazz moved towards one another. Even as the distance closed and the redhead reached out, the pull still did not come. She was alone as her fingers pressed against the lime green metal. There was nothing at first, which almost broke her confidence, but then a thought occurred to her, and, closing her eyes, she pushed her palms against the medic’s frame harder.

_Heal,_ she silently commanded. The sparks surged from her slowly, clutching onto Ratchet’s armor wherever it was damaged. Just like with Optimus and Jazz, the wounds began to close as the sparks worked, moving steadily along the damage until it was fully repaired. Catherine felt the drain while they worked, and felt the sweat building up on her brow as she concentrated on the wounds healing. The sparks followed her command perfectly, and when she just _knew_ the medic was completely whole, she pulled away. There was no resistance as she did so, and even though Jazz raised a finger to help support her, she didn’t need it.

She looked down at her palms as the lights receded, “I… I did it. It… The power listened to me! It worked!”

“Indeed—my scans indicate I am one-hundred percent functional and my Energon stores have been refueled,” Ratchet hummed pleasantly.

“Just had ta show ‘em who was in charge, yeah?” the silver mech winked, and her smile widened as she nodded.

“I don’t think I should have anymore trouble,” she stated firmly, turning back to the medic. “We should go ahead and try to see if it’ll work on Bumblebee!”

“Hold on, I want to make sure nothing has changed first,” the medic replied, raising a hand for pause, and then quickly flashed his green scan light on her. A quick look at his results panel was enough to make him nod. “You’re doing fine. Very well, but I would still advise using only the half current.”

She nodded, and, with a quick nod at Jazz, she was back by the machine. She gripped the wire and again the energy filled her, but this time it was only her. The pull did not return with the new flux, but she did notice a heat growing inside her. It started in her lower abdomen first, but quickly expanded the longer she held on. It was coursing throughout her entire body soon enough and growing hotter with each second. When at last she could endure no more, she released her hold. Already sweat dribbled down her brow, and more was forming as the heat remained. Thankfully, she had a good idea of what it was and managed to call out Jazz’s name through the sensation.

The silver mech said nothing, only acting at once to bring her over to Bumblebee’s side. The yellow Autobot regarded her with worry, no doubt noticing the winced expression on her face from the burn. It wasn’t terrible, but it was as if she had drunk hot chocolate too soon, so it was a little painful. She would reassure him later that she was fine, but at the moment she was more focused on using the power to fix his legs.

She nodded at the yellow Autobot, whom nodded back as he lowered his legs, and she reached out. Again the sparks did not come at just the touch, and it took the concentrated thought of repairing the limbs and making them how they used to be to summon the sparks. They came out much stronger than before, reaching over to the near leg and then to the other. The metal clanged together as its shape shifted, but even as the pieces came together there was something missing. The image was incomplete, and she knew what was needed.

“Ratchet—the metal!” she shouted out, eyes still closed in concentration. “Put the metal on the table!”

The medic hesitated only a moment before doingso, but had to pull back quickly when the sparks suddenly shot over to the piles. As if like a magnet, the metal was pulled by the sparks to Bumblebee’s legs. The pieces attached to the already formed thighs and knee joints where the sparks carefully, but quickly molded and settled them into place. First was the skeleton, made from the strongest pieces and the mostly tightly bundled together. Then, as each part of the leg was finished the armor was placed over it. The process followed all the way down, forming just as her mind’s eye remembered it from both her own memory and from those that flowed into her from a place she didn't know.

Just as the last inch of his foot was done, Catherine felt the remnants of heat leave her. The sparks settled and died, and she finally opened her eyes with a gasp and pulled away. She stumbled a little, but she was able to keep her footing as she shook her head. Jazz was behind her, ready to help, but proved unneeded again as she looked at Bumblebee, whose eyes were locked onto the marvel that was now his legs. A few moments later and his eyes met Catherine’s, wide and in disbelief. She chuckled and gestured at them—for him to use them. He didn’t even nod as he looked back at his legs and, to his surprise, they moved.

Bumblebee then surprised everyone by suddenly hopping off the table onto his brand new legs. Ratchet all but screeched like a banshee at the yellow Autobot, but Bumblebee only grinned and side-stepped around the medic. He was like his namesake as he flew around the room on his new limbs, even punching out a few invisible enemies, and earning him the self the relieved ire of the medic and the laughter of both Catherine and Jazz. He did manage to calm down after a good threat of dismantlement by Ratchet, and he buzzed his way back over to the table where he hopped onto the edge, dangling his legs like a silly little kid.

“I can’t believe you— running around like a hatchling over a new pair of legs! You could have broken them!” the medic growled, smacking Bumblebee over the head. The yellow Autobot whirred apologetically, but he stilled smiled.

“But they are perfectly fine, Ratchet,” he protested, gesturing at them.

“So I noticed, but that doesn’t mean I want you to go prancing about!”

Catherine came up besides Bumblebee, touching his side for attention, “So they’re okay? I tried to make sure I got the memory right…”

“They are perfect, Catherine. I am ‘light as feather’ on them, I believe is the right term,” he chuckled back, nudging her gently.

“I’m glad. Although this means I might just put Ratchet out of the job!” she laughed, though the medic was hardly amused.

“You forget your powers only work when you have the energy to do so,” he sniffed, “and that you cannot use them outside of this room.”

“Oh, do not be so mean, Ratchet,” Bumblebee scoffed at the medic. “She is only playing, and we all know you are the best mech for the job.”

He jabbed a finger into the Autobot’s face, “You’re darn right I am.”

“So do you think we should keep going and see what else I can do? I feel like I could do so much more!” the redhead spoke up, looking at her palms again, as it was apparently becoming a habit.

“Are you sure? You looked to be in pain before,” Bumblebee whirred uneasily, immediately grabbing Ratchet’s attention. Catherine raised her hands up to stop him before he could speak, though.

“Right, yes, I was in a _little_ pain, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I just felt like I was really, really hot on the inside. It went away when I healed Bumblebee, though, so I think it’s just the energy build up.”

The medic frowned, “If it’s bringing you pain, I would rather not press it. You’ve done more than enough already today.”

“He’s right, shorty. Ya done enough fo' now. Ya can do more later when ya body’s rested up some,” Jazz added. Catherine looked back at him, pouting, but she knew both of them were right. She had gone farther than she had hoped to—gaining control of it, for one, and then figuring out how to activate it, too!. That was only repairs, though. What about more difficult things? Could she control the amount of energy needed to create life? How much energy would that need, anyways? A part of her honestly didn’t want to find out so much now that she’d felt the burn.

“Okay,” she finally nodded. “Besides, we have time. But what’re we going to do until Prime gets here? That is how long I’m supposed to be here right?”

“Yes, and it should take a few more hours I believe,” the medic hummed, his eyes dimming and gaining a far-off look, which she had figured out was how they looked when they were accessing their internal communications—comm. link Jazz had told her it was called—when not fighting.

“Ya could always ask Ratchet those questions I told ya ta ask him. He’s got the better answers fo' ya,” Jazz suggested, and Catherine’s hazel eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes! Love you so much, Jazz! That’s perfect!” she squealed, hopping over towards the medic. “Ratchet! I have some questions about you guys!” 

The medic pulled back, having been abruptly interrupted, and glanced down at the redhead, only to feel he might possibly regret agreeing to it. He turned his gaze over at Jazz, whom was grinning, which wasn’t a good sign, but there wasn’t much else to do. Bumblebee was repaired and that had been all he really had going on at the moment. Why not appease to the young female’s inquiries? It would just be a few hours.

And in that long two hours, Ratchet discovered the limitless capabilities of humanity’s curiosity. When Optimus Prime finally showed himself the medic was glad to be relieved of his duty, although he had to admit the redhead was a good listener and seemed genuinely interested in learning about their anatomy, both outside and in, how their sparks worked, and about the more intimate parts of their culture. It was almost like teaching a hatchling, only smaller and more prone to forgetting things or having to ask multiple questions to understand certain concepts.

Thus, he was more than happy to bid Optimus hello, report what had happened, and have him talk it out with the redhead, which left him able to sit on one of the machines in peace. His luck grew even more as it was decided Catherine would leave them for today, not to return until tomorrow when they could work on more skills. Needless to say Ratchet was more than happy to lean back and relax when the redhead was out of sight.

Then he remembered the next day and groaned.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

While those two hours with the Autobots felt like it had gone on forever, the week that followed went by faster than Catherine could have thought possible. She suspected in was in part because her schedule became fixed between two things: The Autobots and the humans. It didn’t help that Sam was reunited with his parents the next day. There had been much hugging, kissing, bawling, and raw anger as his mother somehow managed to wail and love on her son all at the same time. Mr. Witwicky had been a much easier case; simply clasping his son’s shoulder for a good long while before briefly hugging him and nagging about all the crazy business and how he was going to fix the entire lawn for what his friends did to it. Then they found out about Mikeala, and, even if it was a month later, Catherine knew she would still be laughing when she recalled the event. Sam, luckily for himself, was too happy at the sight of them to groan or feel embarrassed.

Of course his parents didn’t forget to dote on his best friend, too. They were ecstatic to see Catherine was alright despite her tattered clothes, but then became worried when they caught wind of her meeting with the Autobots to “suck the Allspark energy out of her”. It was nice to be flustered over by them, although making her feel bad about what her parents were going through wasn’t. Granted, she honestly hadn't though of them that much during the week, and while there was some guilt, it didn’t bother her as much as it should have. She kind of had Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky to blame; the two adults had taken up the job for her missing parental units.

Sam’s parents met the soldiers, too, and that had, in a way, been exciting. The soldiers were luckily smart enough to not say anything to get Sam’s mother mad—especially when she snapped at a Sector Seven guard for waking them up at eight in the morning. Mrs. Witwicky was like a Decepticon that early, and everyone made sure to keep at least ten feet away from her when she walked out of her room. Thankfully, they had finally been provided some clothing and cleaning materials for their stay, which greatly improved many moods. Still, there wasn’t much that could appease being cooped up in a hidden base for a week while the government and Sector Seven took their time doing whatever the hell they were doing.

Catherine ended up asking the Autobots if they knew what their "hosts" were up to at one point, but all she’d gotten was that the remains of the Decepticons had been brought to Hoover Dam while the whole situation was covered up as a terrorist attack and the alliance between the Autobots and the United States was being settled. She’d asked about that, too, but no one seemed to want to talk about it. The soldiers were the most silent on the matter; not even Lennox would clue her in, and whenever his face became steadfast against her pout, she knew better than to press on.

Not much else was thought of the situation after that, and Catherine kept herself busy hanging out with Sam, Mikeala, his parents, Maggie and Glenn—they were only seldom hung out with— or with Lennox and the soldiers. Lennox’s gang was actually very enjoyable to talk with. She liked learning about their histories and lives and what battles they’d face. She’d told a little bit about herself, too, and, as most people seemed to, they were surprised to find out she was a wrestler. That led into her enjoyment in shooting and other things that were considered “manly”, which then brought up comments about recruiting her. Lennox took that only so far before he made them quit, and she figured it was because he thought of his “ladies” when he saw her and didn’t want them or her a part of the conflict. Again, she found him incredibly nice and respectable and was glad to have him as a friend.

When she wasn’t with her human companions, she was with the Autobots. Sometimes some of the others came with her, and it was thanks to one of those moments that the soldiers met Ironhide. Just as she thought, they got along _very_ well—especially Lennox and Epps. She often caught them talking with the big guy alone. The other Autobots interacted with them, too, and got along well enough. Prime was always a little aloof, but he joined in when he could or felt it was appropriate. Jazz and Bumblebee made friends with most everyone easily, though Ratchet had trouble with his outwardly grumpy demeanor.

Even Simmons managed to become part of the group sometimes, although he was a little weary of their robot companions. Of course, that wouldn’t stop him from occasionally snooping around Catherine; trying to figure out what was going on. Needless to say, by the end of it all the redhead was ready to sock him in the nose. Luckily, their gang had found a nice hill near the base to get away from all the Sector Seven goons. She was pretty sure it was nothing short of a miracle they were allowed to go the “look out”, as they called it, and she enjoyed every sunset on that hill with the Autobots and the others.

Then when their “open-Autobot-time” was up, Catherine would be left alone with their metal companions. She considered herself special that way, always getting to wave good-bye. She eventually started boasting about it by making up something that didn’t happen and waiting until the last minute to confess it was a fib. Nothing she ever said was close to the truth either, and no one suspected she was the Allspark recharging her powers with electricity. It helped that Prime showed off the Allspark shard every now and then, leading them even further from her. It made it a lot easier to work on her powers in peace.

The week also did wonders for her control. The pull never returned, and Ironhide’s repairs felt easier than Ratchet’s, although the black mech’s damage had been more extensive. The medic also confirmed that she could turn normal metal into Cybertronian allow, which was part of the reason why Bumblebee’s legs had and were doing so well. That was a grand thing by itself. But then a stalemate started as they realized there was no one else to repair. The solution ended up being that they would figure out if she could control higher amounts of energy.

They started small, increasing the amount she took in little by little. Unfortunately, that led to a bit of overconfidence, which then led to Ratchet opening the current too much. Her control faltered and chaos ensued as she panicked with the surge of intense heat, leading her to touching a console set apart from the others to release the energy. Much to her and everyone else’s surprise, the console came to life. That would have been a much more prospective “accident” if the little metal creature would have had the same sentience level of the other Autobots, and if it hadn’t stared at them with wide, red optics, panicked, and attempted to escape like a frightened animal. Since letting Sector Seven find it was a bad idea it had to be stopped, which led to Bumblebee leaping after it and accidentally crushing it.

There had been much regret about killing it, but once Ratchet informed them it was no better than a drone and that it didn’t have a spark, the yellow Autobot didn’t feel quite as bad. Catherine didn’t feel as bad either, but she did feel regret for her misjudgment. She was forgiven, but it still lingered throughout the week and she made sure to go slowly the entire way. She also made sure to not think about the little drone robot-thing whenever she did release the energy from her body through any random machine in the room, as she feared thinking of it might make another. She was thankful the Autobots didn’t try to pressure her to create anything either. Not only did she not want to create another accident, she didn’t have the confidence she could make a _true_ Cybertronian. Another drone, yes, but a Cybertronian like the Autobots? No. She didn't think she could give them real sparks.

The Autobots all understood, though, and they didn’t blame her for anything that happened or for her faults. Rather, they would encourage her and assure her she was doing perfectly fine. It took time, but she began to believe them even without Jazz confirming it for her later when they would talk on their own. Time also brought her closer to the Autobots, and let her learn more about them and their species. She knew it annoyed Ratchet a little to constantly ask questions, but as days went by she could tell he had begun to enjoy it, considering her as a student to teach about their kind. She tried to ask fewer questions, but it was difficult to learn about their race sometimes. He would explain it to her, though, and she learned more than she could have ever hoped for.

She spent time with the others, too. Bumblebee was like the perfect big, little brother now that he could walk and he often pretended to box with her or talk about anything. He would sometimes apologize about killing the drone, but every time she would reassure him it was alright—it was just an accident and was more so her fault, anyways. Sometimes she noticed he wanted to talk about something, but he could never seem to bring himself to say it. She had a feeling it was about Sam since he mainly got the look when the boy was around. She would silently thank him every time he decided against such talks—the young man was still a sore subject even as time kept going by and the distractions grew.

Ironhide was much the same; acting like the old grandpa figure with all kinds of war stories, only he could still do most everything like show off his gun skills to her on the poor, unsuspecting rocks outside the base. That was actually fun to watch, and she secretly—or not so secretly since she did tell him—wanted guns like his. However, when he offered to maybe convince Ratchet to make them, she declined and said that really wasn’t such a good idea. He took it well enough, although noted the offer was there if she wanted it.

As for Prime, it was actually hard for her to have time with him thanks to all the alliance and clean-up business. He was generally away for the most part, and while she understood, she did wish he could come around more often. He was actually really nice to talk to! He had such a plethora of knowledge and wise-sayings that she felt for sure her IQ would fly out the roof when they held conversations. She noticed he seemed a little distant when he spoke with her, yet it wasn’t _just_ her. He was like that with the other humans, too, but she knew it wasn’t to be rude. She eventually asked him, and he confessed he wasn’t sure how he should act with humans—they were both so strong and yet so fragile at the same time he was afraid he might be too forward and hurt someone. Her respect for him had skyrocketed then, and she assured him he was fine, that he should relax more, and to join in with them. They’d let him know when to be careful. He had agreed he would try, and although it didn’t seem like it, he was less formal when around her or the others by the end of the week. He still had the awkward-uncle-step-father-thing going on, though.

And Jazz. Jazz, Jazz, Jazz. If he was anything, he was a life saver. Any time she was starting to feel bad his Catherine-sense would tingle and he would cheer her up. If she had a sibling, she would have wanted the silver mech to be it. He was _perfect_ at making her laugh when she needed it or keeping her thoughts off Sam. He was there for her when she used her powers, too. Whether it was keeping her steady or reassuring her she was doing okay or that the drone’s death was nobody’s fault, he was there supporting her. She’d never really been able to depend on someone like that, or, at least, to that extent, and she was grateful for it. She knew Jazz knew, of course, and he would keep on making her feel better by talking about music or art or shows or whatever the hell they wanted. It didn’t matter what, because all that mattered was that they were having a good time.

It was all going so wonderful for her that week. Her powers were under her control for the most part, her secret hadn’t been found out, she felt happy most of the time, barely ever had to think about Sam and Mikeala together, and soon they’d finally be out of the stupid base! Then she wouldn’t have to deal with Simmons hounding her—she silently damned his nose—or having to be cooped up! Yes, she did enjoy the time she spent with her new friends, but she did miss her own comfortable bed and her dogs and the free, open sky and electronic devices.

Though, even as she thought of what she missed, she realized she was going to have to leave the Autobots behind to have all that, and she would be lying if she said she was fine with it. She had a good thing here at the base—the kind of good thing she didn’t want to give up, but she had to be reasonable and realistic. Staying meant revealing herself, and leaving meant being safe for not just herself but for others, too. It was obvious what choice she had.

But still.

And as the final night of their stay fell down upon the base, Catherine’s mind was haunted by those two words. They followed her every step, lingered at every edge of her thought, and even clung on into her dreams.

_But still._

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**TMWolf:** _Okay. That's done. It's time to go home now and let's see how things go, because they are going to speed up. In fact, I'm going to give a heads up and let everyone know there's going to be a time skip next chapter. A pretty good one, but necessary and worth it, I assure you._

_With regards to her "questions" and "answers" from Jazz, I realize those probably differ from what most of the fandom believes, but I prefer to stick closer to the canon to be honest and to be more realistic. In the actual canon they don't have "sex/genders", so to speak. Even in G1 they didn't! It's one of the reasons Arcee was made. Anyways, I'll keep some fandom that meshes well, but others will be more in-tune with the canon material~_

_Again Snarky Ratchet. Seriously. I love writing him like that. He just seems so adorable then._

_So. Bonding time with Autobots and Humans. Yay! And Jazz again is very secretive. And that's all for now! :)_


	13. Time to Pretend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MGMT - Time to Pretend is the song :) Super catchy

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Just as she had for the past seven days, Catherine woke feeling refreshed and ready for the day. However, unlike the past seven days, she didn’t smile as she went over what memories she had dreamed of the night before. While the fantastic light show and gladiator-like battle presented to her was fantastic, it weighed nothing in comparison to the realization that today was her last morning at the base. Once everyone was ready to go and Sector Seven had their transportation ready they would be leaving. She would have to say good-bye to Lennox and his soldiers and even worse—the Autobots. Sure, Bumblebee was coming with them—the government had been kind enough to agree to that with the excuse the Decepticons might come after him, and Sam’s parents had agreed after a begrudging argument—but he was technically going to be Sam’s car, and she just didn’t want to leave any of them. She had to, though.

“Well, here we go,” she mumbled and slid out of bed. She put her original clothes back on now that they’d had been washed—a kind gesture from Sector Seven—and set the ones given to them in a nice stack for whomever was going to clean the rooms. After a quick brush through her hair was set into a ponytail, which was followed up with a quick teeth brushing, and then she was ready to go. A least, she was physically. Even though her feet kept moving towards the door and her hand reached for the handle, her mind told her to stop the whole way. It told her to just go back and sit on the bed and hope she was overlooked and could stay. It was a silly thought, and the cold logic won over in the end, turning the door handle and pushing her out into the hall.

She wasn’t alone; Sam and Mikeala were already out and in their old clothes, too. They looked refreshed and eager to finally be going home. She wasn’t surprised. He’d gotten the main prize. The big jackpot. The whole shebang. He had a vastly improved life to head back to even though no one was going to know he was a hero. No one was going to know she was either, but she wasn’t going back with anything except some powers she couldn’t use or show because it would bring disastrous results. It didn’t really seem fair when it came down to it. It might not have been so bad, she realized, if her friend wouldn’t constantly blab about it or hadn't essentially ignored her most of their stay. Granted, part of it was her doing, but still… Didn’t sixteen years count for something?

“Excited about heading home?” Lennox spoke from behind her, nearly making her jump.

She smiled back at him, “Kinda.”

“’Kinda’? ‘Figured you’d be jumping for joy to go back to the normal life and see your parents again,” the man frowned, moving more towards her front with a hand on his hip.

“I just,” she began slowly, finding the wall incredibly interesting at the moment. “Um...really had a lot of fun. Sure, the nearly dying in the battle wasn’t so fun, but I got to meet and spend time with you guys and the Autobots and I… well…”

Lennox chuckled, and she met his gaze where she saw sympathy in his green irises as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I know how you feel, but you have your whole life ahead of you. You’re going to go out and experience all those great things that you can’t if you stay cooped up here. Sure, it’s not full of guys like the Autobots, but you will have that yellow guy—Bumblebe—from what I hear, and, who knows—you might just find something better than the Autobots or even us out there.”

It took a moment, but she smiled up at him again. Mostly it was because she didn’t want him to think his words hadn’t done the full job and she didn’t want to tell him that would worked fine if she was a _normal_ kid. He was right, she knew. There was a whole lot out there in the world. She knew that all too well, but she still wasn't convinced. She didn’t want to disappoint him, though, so she nodded, and he rubbed her head affectionately.

“You’re going to be a great dad, Lennox,” she laughed as she swatted his arm away.

“You think so?”

“Positive. I mean, you have to take care of those kids all the time,” she grinned, turning her head towards his group of soldiers not too far off. He followed her gaze and laughed.

“True. I hear little girls are harder, though,” he replied with a raised brow.

“Lucky for you little Annabelle isn’t a redhead. Then you’d be in for one hell of a job.”

“So I noticed. You should come visit sometime this summer. You don’t live that far away, and Sarah would love to meet you. I’m sure Annie would, too.”

Catherine smiled as her cheeks turned a little red, “I’d love to! I don’t know when I can, but I’ll definitely give you a heads up.”

“Just try to do it before you go back to school,” he added and, seeing her confused look, continued. “I, uh, I’m going into a special service then.”

“ _What_? But—but you should get at least a year for what you’ve done! Ugh! It’s that stupid ‘secret alliance’ you refuse to talk about isn’t it?” she growled, foldig her arms and glaring at the soldier. Lennox sighed, smiling softly at her, and she just knew he was going to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. It was, though, and she hated how the government or Sector Seven or whoever’s idea it was refused to give him a small break even after he'd help save the world! Then she became angrier with Lennox, knowing he had agreed to it in the first place, and both cursed and admired him for his courage and patriotism for his country and family.

When the man before ruffled her hair again, this time softly and with more affection, her anger dissipated some. She couldn’t help but wonder if other people felt like this with normal soldiers who went and continued on even when they should have a break. It wasn’t fair, and they deserved better for their sacrifice—especially when they were as kind as Lennox.

She sighed, “Always lookin’ out for me and the whole world?”

“You know it, but don’t get too down—I get to come back and visit every eight months for a few weeks and on holidays,” he grinned, but she gave him a pout back.

“Just make sure you stay alive then! I swear if you die I will kick your ghost ass ghost buster’s style!”

He laughed heartedly and, opening his arms up, she embraced him in a warm hug. She would never admit it, but it was the kind of hug she wished her real parents would give her. It was the kind of welcoming hug that made her feel home, and it made her want to leave less and less.

“You take care of yourself, kid,” he smiled as they broke their hug.

She nodded, “Same to you, adult.”

With one last chuckle he left her, heading over to the other soldiers. He paused as he came by Sam and bid him good-bye with a manly handshake. His good-bye to Mikeala was a courteous nod of the head and smile, which made Catherine feel a little smug. It vanished in the next instant as she chastised herself for her pathetic actions. It was silly and she was above it. She’d accepted her loss and that was that. No need to keep being bitter and angry. There’s was a lot more out there to see, just like Lennox had said.

"Catherine!” Sam called out now that Lennox was with his fellow soldiers. She waved and headed over, meeting both teens halfway. The young man grinned, pumping his fists, “We’re finally going home! I’m so psyched! I’m thinking maybe we should do a little show boating when we get back, yeah? Yeah?”

Catherine shook her head in her head, although she laughed aloud, “C’mon, Sam, don’t get a swelled head. I, frankly, would much rather go home and lay down on a _real_ bed. I swear I’m going to have back problems for a week!”

“I know what you mean,” Mikeala groaned, rubbing her back. “Those beds are the worst. I swear it took me an hour to get to sleep last night!”

“Well, it’s our lucky break then,” the redhead replied, copying the dark-haired girl’s motion briefly.

“Pssh, you guys are no fun,” Sam whined and the redhead waggled a finger at him.

“’Girls’, Sam. Not ‘guys’. And we will have fun, but let’s just get home first, alright? There will be plenty of time to make Miles explode from shock and show up Trent.”

Mikeala grinned, “I honestly can’t wait to see his face when he sees his ‘little bunny’ with you.”

“And in a smokin’ hot Camaro no less.”

“Dude, Catherine that sounds so weird. I mean, it’s _Bumblebee,_ so it’s like you’re calling _him_ that,” the dark-haired boy grimaced, and his friend smacked her palm to her face while his girlfriend laughed.

“Of course _you_ would think that, Sam. Now please stay still while I knock your lights out,” Catherine sighed, drawing back her arm with her fingers curled into a fist. The young man yelped, throwing up his arms in defense, but, mercifully, the blow never came. Instead, he heard a snort, and when he looked there was a smug smile on Catherine’s face. He scowled then and stuck out his tongue, his pride hurt. Mikeala took all in good humor, too, and assured Sam he was no less manly. That cheered him up until he flinched when the redhead feigned another punch. This time she laughed like an obnoxious villain and he called her mean.

“Well, I am just so glad you little kiddoes are having fun flirting, but it’s time to break it up,” an obnoxious voice spoke up, and they looked with disdain at the very familiar face of Seymour Simmons.

“Hey, Simmons,” Catherine sighed and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “What’s it going to be this time? An interrogation, spying, stalking, or something new?”

“As much as I love to disappoint you, no. You’ve been summoned by the Docbot himself for a final check-up before you go, and I just happened to be nearby, so—”

“You ended up being the messenger boy,” Mikeala finished, not bothering to hide the snarky tone in her voice. She still wasn’t over his threatening her dad. Agent Simmons still wasn’t sorry and glared at her briefly before looking back at the redhead.

“Like I was saying, if you don’t want to delay you’re going home, you better skedaddle on down there.”

“Aww, you trust me to get their all on my own now? And here I thought you didn’t like me!” she cooed, already strolling by him. He mouthed her words with his hands, following her as she went by.

“Figured a smart kid like you won’t get lost,” he replied smoothly.

Then Sam spoke up, “Or you don’t want to get ‘lubricated’ on again.”

Catherine laughed, her friend having said it loud enough for her to hear. She was far enough now she couldn’t hear Simmons reply, and she didn’t care all that much. She already had a good idea of what it would be like, and that included scowling and some name calling. While she didn’t hate him so much now, he was still Simmons, and still annoying.

Just like the agent said, she was a smart kid and was not going to get lost. It helped she knew the path to the Autobot’s area by heart now from taking it many times during the week. So many times, in fact, that she recognized the guards patrolling the hallways and some she’d talked to would give her a nod. The rest mostly ignored or watched her go by then went back to their business. She went by a few scientists, but she avoided them for the single fact of what they had done to Bumblebee and their tendency to look down on her. Thankfully there was only a few, and it didn’t take long to reach the Autobot’s room.

They were all together this time, and no humans were to be found. She raised a brow for a moment, wondering what was in store. Yesterday had been her last power use—decided by both herself and Ratchet and Prime—and they had already discussed what she would do while back at home, so there could have been humans in here. She kind of figured there would be for her “final” check-up since Tom or someone else would or should have wanted to see it with their own eyes. So what could be up? There was really no use wondering as she greeted them and allowed Jazz to gently set her on one of the tables. Optimus moved in front of them, and she met his awe-inspiring optics, as she had learned they were called.

“Good morning, Catherine. I see you are doing well as always,” he rumbled, politely bowing his head.

She bowed back, “Same to you, Optimus. So I’m guessing this ‘checkup’ isn’t a ‘checkup’?”

“You are correct. The ‘checkup’ is merely for show. We truly wish to discuss a certain matter we— _I_ , have been contemplating for some time,” he spoke, optics shifting down for a split moment. She frowned, wondering what it could be, and spread her arms out as she stepped forward.

“Shoot.”

Thankfully, the Autobots had already learned some Earth’s expression and idioms, so he was not confused when he replied. “I know it was decided that you were to be sent home this day, and we did so in order to keep you safe. Certainly it is the best decision, but, after discussing it with everyone, we also believe perhaps it would also be best for you to stay here with us, under our protection. Know that we are not forcing it upon you and leave the option open: you are welcome to leave and welcome to stay. The choice is yours, Catherine, and we will support either.”

Hope flared within her as she tentatively asked, “But… but as what, exactly?”

“Do not fear—we would not have your powers known by Sector Seven. Rather, we would have you act as a representative of sorts for our kind. Certainly you, of all the humans, know us best, and you have friends amongst the humans. You could help in convincing those less certain that we are your allies, especially if more of us should arrive, and surely they will. Your powers would not be used, save for in the utmost secrecy and under the watch of Ratchet or I.”

Catherine could feel her heart beating fast; excitement mixed with hope sending it on an all time high. She couldn’t speak, the words wanting so badly yet fearing to come forth. Prime’s blue optics, full of yearning for her to stay—for their last remnant and hope for home to be with them, didn’t help either. She could see it in the others, too, but she knew they would let her go, too. She knew even if they didn't want to, Jazz and even Prime would fight for her, though it would pain their sparks.

By God did she want to say yes. More than anything she wanted to. She could feel the letters right there on her lips, just waiting for her to open her mouth and say them. She had found something here in this place; found a happiness she vaguely knew. Here she had people—even if they were gigantic, metal people—who cared for her wellbeing. Even if it was because she was the Allspark, they still cared. At the very least she was wanted by them for who and what she was, not for some ideal they had of her. They didn’t try to turn her into something else. And she could keep all that, nurture it, and grow it into something even more beautiful and wondrous—her very own Eden. All she had to do was say yes.

_But_.

The doubt sunk its claws deep, drawing forth the memories of the other world—the one she had been born into and grown in for sixteen years. She recalled the soldiers she had come to befriend and felt at home with, too. She thought of Lennox especially and his words, and in turn thought of the world she lived in. Indeed there were many things out there she didn’t know and could possible never know. She could not deny there was a desire to see some of those things. Though, more importantly than all the wonders of the world was the boy. The dark-haired, silly, oblivious boy she had known since birth. She would be lying if she said she didn’t still love him and want to be around him. She knew she wanted to step into the new world with him at her side. She also knew she had begun to feel something new, but she dared not think on it long lest it form a name. Most of all, though, she couldn’t leave him. Not yet. Maybe later. Maybe never. But not now. She still needed him. She still wanted him to see her how she knew he couldn’t, but still she wanted it.

Then there was the thought of what danger she could bring. If she went home then no one would know of her powers save Bumblebee. No Decepticon would suspect she was the new Allspark, especially with the shard displayed proudly as the shining gem of the alliance and Jazz as proof of its remaining abilities. If she stayed, there would be suspicions, and not just from the enemy. Sector Seven would think something was up, and so would Lennox. They might be oblivious now, but if she stayed—a mere sixteen year old girl who happened to be best friends with the boy whose car turned out to be a robot—they would begin to question things. Furthermore, she was _sixteen_ ; surely the government would interfere for her being such a young age? Maybe the Autobots could pull something, but maybe not. The danger there was too great, she realized. If the Decepticons found her they would be relentless in their assault. Many would die because of her, and she did not want that. She didn’t want the Autobots to die protecting her. She didn’t want Lennox to die for protecting or just knowing her. She didn’t want Sam to die.

Eyes dropping, she breathed in deeply to control her sprinting thoughts. Her heartbeat had slowed, the excitement sobered and the hope quelled. While she wanted so desperately to be part of their world and was in some way tied to it, she was still human. She was still just Catherine Wolfe, and she was still largely apart of the older world.

“Thank-you, Optimus. All of you. But…” she paused, nearly choking on the words. “But I… I have to go.”

She could not prevent the sudden wave of disappointment that came over her, and not all of it was from herself. She had learned early on her powers could sense the others’ emotions, and they filled her now. It made her heart sinkt, and she attempted to cling to the acceptance that came from their leader and her silver guardian. It barely kept her head above the torrent.

“I understand, and we will miss you, Catherine,” Prime spoke softly, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. “If you should ever need our help, Bumblebee will not hesitate to lend you a hand. And know, even though you have chosen to leave, the offer will always remain open. You are always welcome among us.”

Catherine managed to smile and hugged his hand tightly. He did not remove until she released first, and then he stepped aside to allow Bumblebee to step forth. His optics looked down brightly at her as he held out his hand. She asked him to turn around quietly once she stepped on. He nodded and did as told, turning so she faced the others.

“Thank-you, guys. I mean it. I’m not going to say good-bye, though. I don’t want this to be the last time we ever meet, so I’ll say see you until next time,” she spoke, her eyes beginning to water.

“We’ll keep in touch, shorty. Ya got my word on that,” Jazz smiled, and she couldn’t help but smile herself.

“You sure you can’t be my car?”

The silence was the only answer needed as the silver mech reached out to gently stroke her head. She touched his finger, and through the contact she felt his sadness, but also his comfort. Her choice was the best, and though they would miss each other, it wouldn’t be the last time they’d meet. She knew he would make sure of it one way or another, even if it meant sneaking out of the base for a while. That was good ‘ol Jazz—always able to make her feel better, and she certainly did when she pulled away. She looked at the others and while they appeared upset, they nodded at her reassuringly. Even Ironhide’s usual grumpy scowl was less so, and she gave Bumblebee the okay to go.

The yellow Autobot turned and left, moving her up to his shoulder. She vaguely remembered him saying something comforting to her, but she was lost in her thoughts, battling between regret and assurance. It was the best choice. It was the safest choice. She would be safe. Sam would be safe. The Autobots would be safe. Everyone was safest this way.

But still—she felt so straddled. Two worlds divided her; the Autobots on one side, Sam and everything she knew on the other. Each pulled strongly. Both had some need that dominated her, but she couldn’t go both ways. She couldn’t be split in half.

_But still._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine didn’t look back after that moment, not even through their short breakfast or when she stepped into Bumblebee’s interior, shuffling into the back seats. She couldn’t look back. She knew she would demand to stay if she did. She could only look forward silently. She did manage to nod or laugh as needed when Sam and Mikeala took their spots in the front and spoke about everything they would do. His parents had been placed in a Sector Seven vehicle, which would lead them home with another tailing them from behind. It was a kind of official thing they were required to do. It really wasn’t needed in her opinion, but by the time they started heading off she lost interest and took up her time staring out the window.

It felt a little strange as they drove back to the main road. She couldn’t really describe it with any one word, but she supposed it was like everything was new. The world felt so different than she remembered, but maybe it was her. Perhaps she was a newborn finally seeing her surroundings for the first time. Whatever it was, it filled her with a sense of anxiousness and eagerness. She didn’t know if it was good or bad, but surely it couldn’t be as bad as nearly being killed by giant, alien robots?

“Hey, Catherine, you’re kind of quiet. What’s up?” Sam suddenly asked, and she lifted her chin off her hand.

“Just thinkin’ about how we’re finally going home. It feels kind of weird,” she replied.

He nodded, “Yeah, it kind of does a little. Everything’s different, but it’s still the same, y’know? Nobody else knows what happened. Can you believe it?”

“I think that makes it all the more special—like keeping a secret!” Mikeala added with a smile.

“So we’re just going to pretend like it never happened then and go back to our _boring_ , mundane lives?” the redhead inquired humorously.

“Well, it is a secret, isn’t it?” her friend grinned. She and Mikeala grinned back, and the conversation began to dive into what their “cover stories” would be other than the terrorist attack they somehow managed to become a part of. Sector Seven had done a good job making it up, but it was still sketchy and they knew not everyone would believe it. Sam at once thought of saying it was aliens to make it like reverse psychology and have everyone think they were lying about the truth. It was a good idea, but they would have to make it silly. More ideas kept coming, and Catherine even joined in using her more vivid imagination, but at the same time she thought about their earlier words.

_Maybe that’s it_ , she mused as she suggested aloud that they should make the aliens green and that they came from Mars. Perhaps her odd feeling was because the world remained the same—barely even bruised by the coming of the alien creatures—while she and so many and yet so few had been changed. On some level they had all been changed and now it was time to pretend like nothing had happened; like they were still the same. It was time to play the world a fool and wrap them around a silly story about alien terrorists from space that looked like big, nasty cockroaches.

Pretending wouldn’t be so bad. She’d done that more than once in her life, but now she was going have to not just pretend to the world, but to Sam, too. She’d never really had to pretend for him, except for the occasional white lie to keep him from worrying about her. Of course, she probably didn’t even really to need worry. She could just imagine he wouldn’t notice her powers even she accidentally released them right in front of him, so enamored by Mikeala he was. She might just trymto see if she was right. While the thought made her smile, it also brought a sting of pain that was more anger than actual pain.

Catherine withheld her bitterness well for the rest of the conversation, which eventually dwindled down. There was only so much they could make up before it got old or repetitive, and, with nothing else to really talk about, the three succumbed to silence. Sam and Mikeala settled into Bumblebee’s seats, fingers interlaced. Catherine regarded it coldly before she looked away with a silent huff, setting her cheek once more into her palm as she gazed out the window. She felt the leather beneath her other hand vibrate and her seatbelt tighten slightly, and she knew it was the Autobot trying to figure out what was wrong and comfort her. Although there wasn’t really anything he could do, she patted his seat gently as thanks and that was that.

The last few hours of the ride were done in silence, which Catherine enjoyed for the most part. It meant less listening to them talk about sweet nothings that she would never know and more listening to the good tunes Bumblebee played. It did eventually come to end for about thirty minutes when they stopped to eat at Burger King. If Mikeala hadn’t been there, Catherine was sure she would have enjoyed it more—like how she and Sam always used to. However, because the dark-haired girl was there, she felt completely out of place in tose long thirty minutes . Even with his parents talking to her occasionally, she might as well as not have been there. At first there was bitterness, but she shook it off with the fact she hadn’t bothered to contribute much in the first place. She could have easily done so… but Sam could have talked to her instead of only looking at Mikeala.

Thankfully the last bit of the journey was only a forty-five minute drive—first with talking and then silence again—and before they knew it Bumblebee turned onto their familiar street. Sector Seven politely parked on the side of the road while the Autobot proudly pulled up into the drive-way as if he was just any old ordinary car. Catherine got out slowly, gazing at the house. It was oddly familiar compared to the rest of the world, and there was comfort in that. Of course, the backyard could not be said the same for, but with Sam’s sweat and tears it would be back to normal soon enough. She’d probably end up helping, too, but not today. Today she was going home, but there wasn’t as much happiness as there should have been when she looked down the street at the gray bricks of the two-story house.

“Catherine, dear, would you like to join us? I still have some of those brownies,” Mrs. Witwicky smiled as she came up and touched the redhead’s shoulder gently.

Catherine smiled back, “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll have them some other time. I gotta head home and all.”

“Oh, right... Your parents don’t know anything, yet… Well, just a heads up—those Sector Seven people are going to talk to them about all this alien business so you don’t need to worry about that,” the woman replied, gesturing at the black-suited men standing by the vehicles, their gaze settled on the redhead. “Would you like me to bring some goodies by later, though?”

“Ha ha, actually, I have a feeling my parents might just make our cookies tonight. Or, well, I will since I’m better at it,” she chuckled just before finding herself embraced in a warm hug.

“Well, don’t let your parents be like me and keep Sammy locked inside his house forever, alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Unlike Sam, I’m capable of sneaking out of a house,” Catherine giggled, winking. With that, Mrs. Witwicky left her with a “’atta girl” thumbs-up, and she looked to her right to find Sam leaning against Bumblebee, waiting. Mikeala was off towards the back door, watching them. Catherine already knew the dark-haired girl was going to stay a little longer before heading to her Aunt’s house a few streets over. She thought about staying just to spite her, but she needed to go home. She owed her parents that at least.

“See ya later, right?” she grinned at her friend and he smiled back, opening his arms up. She met him in the hug and rejoiced in the comfort in it. A little of her bitterness died, too, her friend noticing her again.

“Come on over whenever you want. I’m going to be bored now that I’m on lock down,” he chuckled back once they separated.

“Sure,” was all she said, and then left with a wave and good-bye to Bumblebee. The Autobot revved his engine a little in reply, and she left down the drive way. Just as Mrs. Witwicky had said, the Sector Seven agents tailed her the moment she passed by them on the sidewalk. She didn’t mind, having become used to them the past week, and instead focused on the gray bricks coming closer and closer. Too many outcomes ran through her mind of what might happen, and she nearly stopped in her tracks because of it. In the end, when she came to the pebble path, she banished them all away and prepared for whatever might come.

_Here goes_ , she breathed as she reached the door and, taking another deep breathe, rang the doorbell. She could hear the familiar bark of her dogs at once, which brought a smile that grew at the sight of their black noses pressed up against the windows, scrunching them like a pig’s. Then she saw the movement inside, stepped back a little to give them room, and prepared herself.

Nothing could have prepared her, however, for the door to suddenly nearly swing off the hinges as it opened or to have her parents literally attack her with a hug. The air was squeezed out of her as her mother and father wrapped their arms tight, shouting incoherent babbles that involved her name and being worried or something like that. Her father managed to calm down some first, kissing her forehead, and told her clearly that they were so scared and then asked with concern where she had been. Her mother then explained how they called the police but no one could find her and then they’d heard about how some teens had been caught up in some strange terrorist conspiracy in Mission city.

“Mom! Dad! Calm down! Please!” she finally cried out when she was able to wriggle free. “I have some friends here that’ll explain everything. Let’s just go inside, okay? The sooner you here what happened the sooner we can go get the dogs.”

The fact their huskies were loose was funnier than she thought they would take it, and they gladly ushered her inside. Although it was more of her mom doing that, going on about how they were going to make her favorite meal and cookies and all kinds of things while her Dad welcomed the agents in. All the while a smile made its way onto her face, and, though it was normally such a foreign thing in this place, it felt just right at the moment. In fact, the cage finally, for the first time in years, actually felt like a home.

And even if it was just for pretend for a little while, she let herself believe things had finally changed—that things were going to be okay.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _Mmkay. So. Everyone's home now. Things are looking good, too, despite leaving the Autobots. But don't worry folks. As I told in the first Author's Note, I am a cruel, cruel writer :) I tend to not be nice to my characters. I'm just terrible, ho ho ho~ And yeah, Jazz couldn't come with. Ratchet will want to keep making sure he's okay, and Jazz has a lot of work as the second-in-command lieutenant guy. Also, might be a little suspicious... maybe. Also, her parents are in the dark, so I mean, there you go._

_Also, if it's not obvious- Lennox is my favorite human character :) He's just always so awesome! And so I portray him as that good guy with the gret personality who takes non-family kids to take him under his wing -cough-hint-cough-. He's pretty good looking, too. Not gonna lie. Darn you Sarah Lennox. You got yourself a good man._

_And that's pretty much it for this round. Just wait for the next chapter. Shit will be going down :) Also- prepare for a time skip. Just a heads-up._


	14. Blinding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Florence + the Machine - Blinding. Time for some changes :D

***Word of warning: Foul language afoot!

\----------------------------------------+

_Seems that I have been held, in some dreaming state_

_A tourist in the waking world, never quite awake_

_No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber_

_Until I realize that it was you who held me under_

_No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone_

_No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden_

_No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love_

_No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love_

_No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world_

\----------------------------------------+

For nearly a good, full month things had gone fantastic. Catherine even dared to call it perfection.

While she still grieved the loss of her Autobot companions—she didn’t entirely count Bumblebee since he was just a few houses down—her normal family had managed to make up for it. In fact, she only seldom thought of the Cybertronians her first week home, and it wasn’t until Jazz had sent her message on Yahoo that she felt the loss again. It wasn’t terrible, though, as her parents continued to give her their "new treatment". It was unbelievable how much they had suddenly changed. It was if they were new parents all together; constantly asking if she was okay or what she wanted, and taking a genuine interest in her desires. She couldn’t even recall them trying to force her to be girly as they normally would. They were just happy she was there and she was alive. It was all she could have asked for from them—to be loved for _who_ she was, and to support it, too.

The joy hadn’t ended there, however. No, Sam had seemed to change, too—as if the high of aftermath had finally settled down now that he was home. Her friend being grounded for life helped as well, although the imprisonment had been lifted within the week despite his mother’s words. She had visited, as was expected. That had actually been difficult due to her parents being terrified of her leaving, but there wasn’t much they could do with work calling them a few days after the "incident". Thus, she visited her unfortunate friend, and, to her pure delight, they talked and hung out in his room just like old times. They laughed and laughed, played video games, and went on about anything they felt like. A piece of her home was back, and she was determined to never let it go again even with Mikaela having burrowed her way through.

The dark-haired girl was actually rather enjoyable that first month, and Catherine could honestly say they got along well. They had managed to find topics they both liked, such as cars, although the dark-haired girl knew far more than Catherine could hope to about the inner workings, but they also spoke of other, more random things at times. Generally, their conversations had Sam around with them, and they would discuss whatever he pitched, though sometimes the boy himself was their topic. Thankfully, Mikaela wasn’t one to boast about her romantic life even with his best friend, and, more often than not, they would tease the young man. Catherine couldn’t deny she was a nice girl and definitely not the shallow, cliché beauty she had thought her to be. Hell, Mikaela even enjoyed their humor and took a liking to some of their nerdy things. She was also kind and respectful towards the redhead.

Deep down, though, Catherine had secretly hoped their relationship would just be an adrenaline rush, and that, now they were home, it would settle down and fizzle out. Unfortunately, it didn't. Rather, it seemed to swell. 

Thankfully, Miles did her a favor by distracting her from such thoughts, and there had been almost nothing better than watching the blonde gape, his mouth nearly hitting the ground, when he saw Sam with his brand, spanking new Camaro and the hot babe under his arm. There had been much babbling and confusion for the poor young man, but it was explained over lunch. Luckily, the young man was gullible, and so he was completely suckered in by their story of how terrorists had hidden in their house while on the lam and taken them hostage to Mission City using his car, and how they had managed to help take them down so the government rewarded them with a new car. They then warned him that if he told anyone, some guys in black suits would come and kill him, which played perfectly to the boy’s paranoia, and he refused to make a peep about it.

That had only been the first week, though. From then on they were a group of four, or technically five if she counted Bumblebee, but he wasn’t allowed to interact when Miles was around. He didn’t really get to interact with them much at all, as being alone or finding a solitary place was more difficult in a populated area. He was alright with it, knowing his duties, and the four teens were able to hang out with peace of mind.

Miles managed to take a similar liking as Catherine to Mikeala, although he would secretly tell her he didn’t think they belonged together—hinting at how he meant for her and Sam to get together. It was a nice gesture, which she would thank him for, but she knew it wasn’t to be. Mikeala seemed to take a liking to Miles, too, although Catherine was never sure if it was because she thought of him more as a “side kick” show or an actually funny person. She never felt like asking.

The good times continued on for that month, and during it the bitterness and pain she had felt so strongly before was eclipsed by the bliss. She hardly had any worries between her parents loving care, her returned friendship with Sam, and a smaller one forming with Mikeala. Even her powers didn’t worry her, and not once did she have problems keeping it secret. Then there were the Autobots whom had contacted her about three weeks into her return home. It was a funny thing to talk them over Yahoo, but it was even more so wonderful to hear from them again and talk to them about whatever she wanted. It was mostly Jazz she talked, too, but sometimes Bumblebee, who had caught on, and also Ratchet whom would ask her about her powers from time to time. She would tell him they were fine—which they were— and that she was perfectly healthy, too, which she was.

The others she seldom spoke with, but she contributed that to Ironhide being a grump or like the grandpa who couldn’t figure out the Internet, where as Prime she knew was busy and it would have felt weird talking to him over the internet with a Yahoo program. She was fine with just Jazz, Bumblebee, and occasionally Ratchet, though. They suited her needs just fine and kept her up to date about the happenings of the Autobot world, such as word of new Autobots coming. They didn’t know who, yet, but they were excited, so she was excited for them. The alliance was in the works, too, although it had changed due to a certain “incident” that led to Sector Seven being dissolved and a new organization put into its place. She learned Lennox was to be put in charge, and she both worried and cheered for him, knowing the alliance would be in good hands.

It was all so wonderful for her—her loving parents; her blooming and thriving friendships; the joy; everything. It had been like a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream that shouldn’t have ended, but fate was a cruel, merciless thing.

She woke up.

It started slow at first—at her home. It took her a while, but, gradually, she noticed her parents coddled her less. That wasn’t really a problem. She expected their “mother-hen” stage to end—they did have jobs to get to support the family and their own lives, so she was fine with that. It was nice to get a little space and not have her mother hover over her like she was going to implode on the spot, too. If that had been the only thing, then she wouldn’t have minded, but it wasn’t. No, after the initial change she noticed the rest. Little by little she recognized things were going back to the way they were—the home was beginning to become a cage once more. She tried to make it better, but nothing seemed to work. Even having a tiny bit of home left would have been just fine, but it wasn’t to be. Not when her mother began to insinuate she should be girly or when they told her just because she helped save a lot of people didn’t mean she would have a free ride all her life.

That had broken everything, and she was in a cage again. By the second week she was suffocating among them; a chained outcast in her own home. She no longer felt like she could talk to them without being judged. She no longer felt safe to say anything around them, and the silence took hold once more. That damned silence she hated, but couldn’t— and didn’t— want to surpass with those people.

She could have lived with that. She had done so for her whole life and could continue on for the few years she had left to live with them. That was if it had been her only problem.

What had once been so wonderful came crumbling down in a fantastic explosion. 

By the end of the first month she and Mikeala had run out of things to relate to, and the topics they already knew had become stale—even teasing Sam wasn’t as fun as it used to be. It was then Catherine realized she and Mikeala didn’t actually have that much in common. Yes, they had helped save the world together and both loved Sam—the dark-haired girl still didn’t know of her affections—and spent a lot of time together, but it was obvious the only times they really talked to each other was when Sam was around. In fact, the redhead couldn’t remember ever being with Mikeala without the young man there, and her phone had a distinct lack of the girl’s number. There was also the realization that she and Sam’s relationship wasn’t going to end anytime soon like the redhead had once thought and hoped it would. That ultimately led to certain feeling she would have rather kept quelled returning, and it made those times together with Sam and Miles awkward and lacking in conversation.

More importantly than the bitterness coming back, though, was Sam himself. She’d denied it for a good solid week, but as the knife in her chest continued to dig deeper and twist harder she started to accept the truth.

He was ignoring her. 

Before, when they had hung out, he happily talked with her about the Autobots or what their plans for the week were, but that eventually became seldom and turned into excuses of going on dates with Mikeala. She could understand that. She could also bury the anger and pain she felt every time he brushed off going to the movies with his best friend since birth so he could adhere to his lady, whom had him completely whipped.

Besides, Miles was there to keep her company. Sure, they weren’t the best of friends, but they were technically in the same boat with Sam ignoring them in favor of his “ho” as the blonde-haired boy so aptly put it. It was enough to give them something to talk about for a little while before they went their separate ways. Still, it was hard to watch Sam and Mikeala walk off to be by themselves and leave the two of them sitting alone. Miles was more prone to complaining than she was, but she couldn’t agree with him more. “Bros before hoes”, wasn’t it? Too bad Sam had forgotten that—forgotten them.

And then Miles left.

That had been gradual, too; the blonde-haired boy not showing up every other day, and then every two days, and then he didn’t show up for a whole week once. Finally, near the end of the second month, he came up and told her bluntly that he was done with it, or, rather, Sam was done with him. He told her it had been a good run, but he wasn’t needed or wanted anymore, and he wasn’t going to bother trying to be something he couldn’t. He had said he was sorry to her and that he hoped Sam figured things out, and then he was gone and she was alone. No more Miles to keep her company when Sam and Mikeala went off. Just her. The third wheel. Lonely and alone. Forgotten by her best friend— or could she even call him that anymore? Did best friends forget each other or feel such raging anger for each other? She didn’t know, and she only wished it could have ended.

Even the other Autobots couldn’t help her. There wasn’t much an instant message could do, and neither Jazz nor Bumblebee could help her even if she told them. What could they do, anyways? They were supposed to be a secret. The government wouldn’t let them leave for such trivial matters, and it wasn’t like blowing up everything would work. That would only make things worse.

She just wanted everything to go back to normal. She wanted Miles to come back. She wanted her parents to be more than just the people that took care of her. She wanted Mikeala to be just another girl they didn’t really know and didn’t know Sam existed. She wanted someone she could play video games with. She wanted someone she could go to Burger King with. She wanted someone who knew how to make her laugh. She wanted someone who knew how to make her smile when she wanted to cry. She wanted someone to know when she was hurting even when she said she alright She wanted someone to talk to when she couldn’t handle everything. She wanted her best friend back. She wanted _her_ Sam back. She just needed for everything to be the way it used to be.

For one month everything had been perfect.

During the second, everything began to collapse.

And as the final week came to a close, her strength failed her.

The last support keeping her standing broke.

She fell.

\----------------------------------------+

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------+

Catherine sighed deeply from her spot on the couch, her Gameboy in one hand, and her dog’s head occupying the other. The T.V. was on and playing something, but she didn’t much care for it. Even her game was half-forgotten as she slumped further into the black leather. It had become her routine these days; lazing about playing video games or watching cartoons or using the computer or all three at once. Maybe if was the weekday she would have gone to wrestling practice, but it was Saturday. She’d already jogged that morning, too, and didn’t feel like going again. She thought of maybe going out somewhere fun, but a snarky, biting remark about a certain someone threw that out leaving her with nothing to do.

“Shoot me now please,” she grumbled, letting her head fall back into the couch. Bandit moved his head to look up at her, but he was oblivious as always. He was good company, at least, and she rubbed him behind the ears in thanks. He had practically been her only companion these days. Excluding her parents, though they were thankfully gone for most of the day. Too bad it was the weekend and they were off work. She could have done without them there, ready to berate her. It was always something about not wanting her to be lazy or she was getting too “sanctimonious”, and that saving the world was no excuse to do whatever the hell she wanted. It’s like they expected her to suddenly do drugs or commit a crime or something.

 _I might as well just to spite them. They just can’t stand anything that might ruin their reputation!_ She snarled silently, shutting off her Gameboy and tossing it aside rougher than she should have. She took a few seconds to stare blankly at Courage the Cowardly Dog on the T.V. before ushering Bandit off the couch and deciding she wanted something to eat. Her parents were nearby—her mom prepping dinner and her dad off at the dining table reading—but she didn’t worry too much. They were busy, and she was generally ignored if she didn’t say anything. It looked like this time would be no different when she reached the refrigerator and pulled out an apple.

“Oh, honey, we’re having salad tonight—wouldn't you rather have it then?” her mother asked when she washed it off in the sink.

“No, I’m good. Not sure I’m going to eat dinner tonight,” she rumbled back, already reaching for the small knife.

“But we’re having flank steak with it,” the blonde-haired woman urged.

Catherine shook her head, “No, it’s fine. Not hungry for much besides an apple.”

“And what are you going to do? Go upstairs and get on that computer of yours for hours again?” her father spoke up, setting his paper down to give her a “look”. She thought about rolling her eyes, but that would have just made him mad.

“Probably.”

He sighed with exasperation, “You’re on that thing all the damn time. You should go out and have fun with your friends!”

“Sam’s busy.”

“What about your other friends?”

“I dunno,” she replied, cutting into her apple so as to not meet his gaze and hopefully stop the conversation there. She hated when they got into the “other friends” talk. It wasn’t any of their damn business and they wouldn't have understood, anyways. Her concepts of friends and her problems didn’t compute in their “perfect” idea of the world.

“You haven’t gone out with Sam or Mikeala for a while. You should ask—maybe you’ll find yourself a boyfriend too,” her mother smiled. Catherine knew it was all in good faith, but when it was the millionth time she'd said it or something like it, the idea was just tiresome and taxing. “I’m sure Mikeala could help spruce you up and get you one in no time.”

“Jesus, what is with you and getting me a boyfriend?” she barked back with more anger than she meant to.

“Hey!” her father growled, jabbing a finger at her from across the room. “You don’t take that tone of voice with your mother.”

“I didn’t mean to, okay?”

“You’ve been acting up a lot, lately. I don’t know if it’s that whole Mission City thing or something else, but you need to cool it,” he rumbled, and Catherine could have stabbed the cutting board with the knife. She probably could have thrown the knife at him, too, but that would have been worse. Either way, she hated when he did that. Hated it. Hated it. _Hated it_. She wasn’t acting up because she saved the whole god damned world—she was doing it because they were acting like their usual selfish selves! She wasn’t perfect and never would be and neither would anybody else, so why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Why did she have to be exactly how they wanted? What was wrong with being how she was?

With a growl, she abandoned her half-cut apple and stormed for the entrance.

“Where are you going?” her father demanded, though he made no move to stop her.

“To hang out with my friends like you wanted” she shouted back, slamming the door shut behind her as soon as she finished. She didn’t give them time to come after her, taking off at a quick run down the street to Sam’s house. She knew they’d know where she was, but she also knew where to hide in his house. If she was lucky, Mrs. Witwicky would be gone or wouldn’t see her. That way, even if Sam had to answer, he could lie. Whatever the case, all she wanted was for them to leave her the hell alone for a while or, better yet, forever.

Bumblebee was out in the driveway as usual, and she tapped on his hood in greeting.

“Hey, ‘Bee. Sam home?”

“Yes, he is in his room,” the Autobot replied. Unlike Sam and the others, Bumblebee always used his normal voice instead of the radio with her. It was, in part, a special request because she loved his accent and also, she suspected, a bit out of respect for her. She secretly hoped it wasn’t—she would prefer him to think of her as his friend rather than a holy artifact or a superior or something.

“Good. Need to vent,” she sighed, but then looked up as a rumble of thunder echoed overhead. “Oh dang, looks like it’s gonna rain. You better get into the garage so you don’t get soaked.”

Bumblebee said he would, and she left him to go inside. The house was quiet, suggesting his parents were gone. That was good, and not just to make it so Sam could lie for her more easily. She didn’t really want them to hear her complaints about her parents—Mrs. Witwicky wasn’t known for being a quiet woman. Mr. Witwicky wasn’t much better, but he could at least be persuaded to keep his mouth shut.

She made her way upstairs, already forming her rant in her mind. She let herself imagine what her friend might say, too, and the replies for that, but she’d learned things normally didn’t end up how she played them out in her head. For instance, Sam wasn’t playing video games or watching T.V. as she had expected him to be, but rather lounging on the bed with his computer. He was surprised to see her too as he almost fell off when she popped in.

“Whoa! Catherine! Don’t scare me like that!” he pouted, setting his laptop aside. “You could’ve knocked you know.”

“What happened to ‘mi casa es su casa’?” she inquired with a grin as she took up her spot on the opposite corner of the bed.

“Well, it is except my room. My private quarters. Man needs his privacy,” he huffed, casting a sneaky glance over at particular side of his room. She caught it and knew exactly what he was looking at, but did him a favor and didn’t shake her head or laugh at him. He was a boy, after all, and they loved their “magazines”.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, you got some time?”

He straightened, seeing her expression darken a little, “Uh, yeah, what’s going on?”

“What else? My parents are being their usual selves, only my Dad is even worse!” she growled, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? But I thought you guys were doing great—I mean, you even said so like a couple weeks ago, right?” he frowned. She narrowed her eyes for a brief moment.

 _I said that almost a month ago._ “Yeah, well, not anymore, and now they’re pulling the ‘don’t get lazy just because of Mission City’ bullshit! Can you believe that? I nearly get killed while helping to save the world and they try to use it to make me act how they want!”

“Have you told them at least?”

She folded her arms, “Please. If I even bothered to try he’d only get more pissed off and then they’d start asking questions I don’t want to answer. They just can’t stand me not fitting into their perfect little world!”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but stopped to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. Seeing the number, he lurched up, pressed the send button, and held up a finger for her to wait. She nearly shouted, but bit her lip in time to keep the words bottled up. The anger sizzled and burned, though, and any self-control couldn’t touch it. It didn’t help that she knew exactly who was on the other end of the phone by the boy’s smiling face and flirty remarks. In fact, it made the burn turn into a searing rage that threatened to turn her into a relentless volcano. It was only by some kind of miracle that she kept her cool, her arms folded painfully tight against her body, and waited as Sam finally finished talking to his girlfriend, at which point he looked at her apologetically.

“I’m sooooo sorry, Catherine, but I gotta get going in like ten minutes,” he stated, and she had to look away by sliding off the sheets to keep from bursting right there and then. “Mikeala and I have a date at that nice pizza place and I gotta go pick her up.”

“You’re _always_ running when she calls,” she snarled, but her friend didn’t catch onto the hurt tone.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re jealous!” he laughed.

That was it. Self-control no longer applied as the anger and pain and hurt and rage took over, flooding her body with a hot fury unlike any she’d ever felt before. The knife had gone as deep as it could go—still twisting and cutting— and there was no more containing everything inside. Not anymore. Not after this. How could he just toss her aside like that? It wasn’t fair. Did she not exist anymore? Did she not matter anymore? Did he even care anymore? It was too much to take.

She broke.

She turned on him, eyes hot, “Of course I’m jealous—I’ve only been in love with you the past two fucking years, Sam!”

The dark-haired boy’s mouth dropped, eyes wide and unsure what to say. She felt the tears well up as she stood there, glaring at him, and when he made a sound to make up for the silence she took over.

“But you know what? I was okay with it. I was okay being your best friend while you drooled over Mikeala and she got to be your girlfriend. I was even okay that you brought her to our favorite places that were _our_ places. _Our_ places, Sam! But I was okay that you took her on dates more than you hung out with me. I was just fine! But then you started to forget about your friends. You forgot about Miles—do you even know he’s gone? Have you even wondered why he never shows up? It’s because he’s tired of trying to be your friend when you don’t give him the fucking time of day!

“I could have handled that, too. I could take you ignoring Miles. You know what I can’t take, though? I can’t take you ignoring me. _Me,_ Sam! I’ve been you’re best fucking friend for sixteen god damned years and yet you just toss me aside as soon as you get the girl of your dreams! Did it mean nothing to you? I’ve always had your back! I even had it in Mission City, but evidently you can’t have mine when I need to it to just get away from my problems because you’re too busy being Mikeala’s bitch!”

Tears were streaming now, and Sam was still standing stupidly, lost between confusion and pain and trying to figure out what to say; trying to find some excuse. There wasn’t one, though. She didn’t want to hear it even if there was. She didn’t want to hear anything from him. There was nothing he could say that would fix things.

She wiped away some of the tears, “God… You know what, Sam? I’m done. Miles was right—there’s no point in trying anymore. I can’t compete with her, and I don’t want to try to. I’m done. I’m fucking done. So fuck you, Sam.”

Catherine turned away then, the tears still flowing, and she left. She made it down the stairs before Sam finally shouted out after her, but she kept going. She refused to stop or look back as she tore out the back door and burst into a sprint the minute her feet hit the pavement. Bumblebee called out, but she ignored him as she flew by. The world was blurred, but she didn’t care. She just kept moving. She had to get away from there. She couldn’t stay there anymore.

So she kept running even as she choked on her sobs and the first drops of rain began to fall. It didn’t matter where she went— so long as it wasn’t there.

Far behind, Sam watched her go. He stood in the drive way, watching her sprinting figure take off to places unknown, and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to go after her. He could only watch as the one person he had known and trusted all his life run away from him.

His Camaro’s engine revved to life, pulling up close to him, but still he did not move. Instead, he put a hand on the black-stripes hood hood.

“No, ‘Bee… Let her… Just…let her go.”

Though the Autobot didn’t understand the reasons for his charge’s words, he understood he was upset and that going after Catherine would only make things worse. Still, he could not let her be alone for long—not with the rain and because she could potentially hurt herself in the state she was in. So, while he listened to Sam’s order and his charge continued to stand there in front of him, staring in the direction his friend had gone, he contacted his commander.

_“Optimus, Catherine has run off, but Samuel has said it is best not to follow. She is emotionally compromised, however, and I fear for her safety, yet I do not think I should pursue.”_

There was a long pause before his commander replied, “It _is alright, we have an Autobot not far from your destination. We will send them. Report back if she returns.”_

Bumblebee gave his confirmation and then became silent, watching his charge still standing beside him even as the rain began to come down faster and faster until it was downpour.

_…Wrong…_

When Mikeala arrived at Sam’s house in her Aunt’s beat up Honda in the pouring rain she was ready to lash out at him for standing her up. He’d never done it before, and there better have been a good reason because she’d waited an hour for the yellow, black-striped Camaro to roll up. She’d even given him a few extra minutes, but there had been no Sam. Not even a call to say he was going to be late or sorry or whatever. She really didn’t appreciate it since they had planned this for a while and she’d even called him ten minutes before he was supposed to come get her. He couldn’t use his car as an excuse, either, because she had made sure Bumblebee knew, too.

However, any annoyance melted into confusion and worry when she found her boyfriend sitting on his porch steps, completely soaked. It wasn’t just his wet state that worried her, though. Rather, it was how moist his eyes were and how intensely they gazed down the road— as if he was looking and waiting for something— that worried her. He didn’t answer when she called out to him. Even sitting down beside him and touching his hand didn’t move him.

“Sam, what’s going on? What happened?” she asked softly, pleadingly. He finally closed his eyes, as if trying to shut back a deep pain, and looked at her with such sadness she felt her own heart quiver.

“I messed up, Mikeala. I messed up with Catherine. _Bad_ ,” he whispered weakly.

She squeezed his hand, “You’ve had fights before, though, right? It’ll be okay.”

“We’ve never fought like this! No… No—things aren’t going to be okay,” he replied, shaking his head and turning back to the road, waiting for the redhead to show up. “Not…Not this time.”

_…Things… Changing…_

Catherine didn’t know how far she had gone or how long, but when she came to an empty neighborhood under construction her legs finally collapsed. She fell hard onto the pavement, scraping elbow and knees. Her lungs burned in agony as they tried to suck in air between the sobs while she pushed herself up to her knees. Her entire body shook in her soaking clothes, and only grew worse as the rain continued to pour down on her. She didn’t care about all that, though, and forced herself back up. She managed to stumble over to the curb before falling again. This time she didn’t try to rise, but instead sat where she fell and buried her head into her jacket’s sleeves.

Her mind was too numb to think of anything clearly, but the anger and pain was still there thrumming in her chest, so she cried for that. She cried for the loss—the emptiness that had taken over most of her heart and for everything wrong that had happened. She cried just to cry and release everything bottled up inside. And when she couldn’t cry anymore the rain helped her, the drops like tears when they hit her cheeks and dribbled down her chin.

She wanted to run again; wanted to keep going, but her body wouldn’t and couldn’t move. Her legs were shaking terribly even without the sobs, but still she wanted to get away. She wasn’t far enough yet. She wasn’t free of that place or all the hate and selfishness and anger. She could still feel it nipping at her skin, baying in her ears, and clawing at her heart. Nothing she tried to say worked, the words falling out as garbled sobs.

She stayed that way, her body too tired and her mind too numb and her heart too heavy for her to move, and let the world around her fall away from any perception until a bright light appeared.

She managed to look up and wipe away some of the tears on her shoulders, though had to shield her eyes from the light—headlights, she realized. The rumble of an engine confirmed it was, in fact, a car, but what kind she couldn’t tell in the dark or in the blinding lights. The owner seemed to realize the problem and shut them off, revealing the metal shine of a silver frame in what little light there was. Even more important was the obvious lack of a driver.

 _Jazz?_ Her mind vaguely recalled, but the voice that came from the vehicle wasn’t his.

 _“Catherine Wolf?”_ the vehicle called out. She still couldn’t find her voice, so she nodded. “My name’s Sideswipe. I’m an Autobot. Optimus Prime sent me to pick you up.”

The names were familiar, and their matching mental images helped revive her mind a little, but she still didn’t move. The vehicle rolled up closer then, opening its door so the driver’s seat was right in front of her.

 _“Look, I’m not the best on humans or whatever, but I’m pretty sure sitting in the rain isn’t good, so you should probably get inside,”_ Sideswipe spoke again. She stared for a little while and then willed her body to move. Miraculously it obeyed, although her legs still felt a bit shaky. She had to rely on the door to help her in, and even then she collapsed into the leather seats. The door closed behind her, finally separating her from the rain, though her clothes and skin still dripped as if she were outside. The radio crackled as if about to say something, but it was silenced when she suddenly latched her fingers onto the steering wheel and pressed her forehead into it.

Fresh tears came again, though not as strongly as before, and it was mostly her body shaking as she sobbed. The vehicle didn’t move the part from her grasp, though, and remained still as the redhead went on, releasing anything that was left. It did not take as long this time, and, after only a few minutes, she sniffed loudly and pulled away to wipe at her eyes.

“S-sorry about that,” she spoke softly, leaning back into the seat again.

 _“It’s, uh… It’s alright,”_ Sideswipe replied and started up. _“I’ll take you home, I guess.”_

She lurched forward, “No!”

_“Uh…Where to then?”_

She sighed, falling back into the seat, exhausted. She closed her eyes, their lids heavy.

“Anywhere but there,” she whispered, and, as impossible as she thought it was, relaxed. There just something about being in the car—being with an Autobot— that felt so serene. It was like all the things chasing her could no longer reach her. She was safe here. It was nice, and like a lullaby, the sense of security pulled her towards sleep. If she had wanted to resist she was too tired to, and so allowed herself the small measure of peace.

 _“Prime, this is Sideswipe. I’ve got the 'Catherine' thing_ — _er, person. Whatever._ _But I’ve got a little problem—she doesn’t want to go home,”_ Sideswipe rumbled over a comm. link channel, his sensors keeping an eye on the redheaded female in his interior. _“And I don’t think taking her there is a good idea. She kind of glitched when I suggested it. So where should I take her?”_

 _“Bring her to Lennox’s farm. It’s only a few Earth hours from your location and they won’t mind,”_ Ironhide of all mechs replied.

 _“Ironhide? I thought I contacted Prime,”_ the silver Autobot huffed

Prime spoke next, _“I opened it to the others in the event of an emergency, and do as he suggests. Taking her back home may not be the best thing for her. Keep her safe.”_

 _“I've been made aware it is raining there. If she's wet, you will need to dry her off-- use your heating systems for that. Make sure she is as comfortable as possible, as well. And send a report of her physical condition to me. I won’t be able to reach you, but I can at least advise on what to do in the event she requires medical attention,”_ Ratchet added quickly.

_“Roger that, although major overload there, doc. Heading out.”_

He ended the comm. link, and, seeing the human asleep, he wrapped his seatbelt around her, lowered the seat some, and turned up the heat in his interior. He didn't want the medic getting mad at him, after all.

That settled, he quietly and carefully drove off.

\----------------------------------------+

_**T** _ _**MWolf:** So, now you see what I did there with her being friends with Lennox :) and look! It's Sideswipe! Leap for joy everyone! Yaaaay! But don't expect sparks so quick~ They just met after all :P Sorry if the intro was kind of long, but it was necessary :3 And finally, at last, she's no longer blinded by her feelings for Sam! Yes, a terrible way to end things, but it's how it is and for a reason. Now she's off to the Lennox's farm/ranch! Still so many things to do, though!_

_Hope Miles exit worked for readers. I know he kind of just vanished and that was always weird to me, so I made my own exit that I figured worked pretty well. I actually had multiple ideas like he started actually taking harder classes and was actually pretty smart or he went on a "soul-searching" quest, but I thought this way was best and worked out better in the end~_

_Also, I wanna go ahead and note since it'll come up later that her parents don't abuse her at all. They're not that kind of parents, but they're bad in their own way and that way is one of the things that really gets to Catherine. Everyone has their own irks and things they don't like, and, well, obviously the things her parents say/do is hitting right on the nail. I'm just saying to make sure people know they're not abusive, just... clueless, I guess?_


	15. You Are a Tourist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death Cab for Cutie - You Are a Tourist
> 
> Getting places :D

_When’s there’s a burning in your heart_

_And you think it’ll burst apart_

_Or there’s nothing to feel_

_Save the tears, save the tears,_

_When there’s a burning in your heart_

_And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born_

_Then it’s time to go_

_And define your destination_

_There’s so many different places to call home_

_Because when you find yourself the villain in the story you have written_

_It’s plain to see_

_That sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemption_

\----------------------------------------+

She wasn’t sure if was the smell of maple syrup and pancaked or the sound of a crying baby that woke her up, but either way Catherine was fairly surprised to find herself covered by te green sheets of a bed in a white room she didn’t recognize. She rose slowly, trying to remember what happened, and ended up falling back down with a tired sigh. She realized then the pillow was wet, and when she lifted her arm she found she was still in her clothes, now damp rather than soaked now. Figuring she shouldn’t get the bed any wetter than it already was, she slid out.

She expected to still be a little tired or have a stuffed nose, but she actually felt alright as she rolled her shoulders, popping the limbs. Then she remembered her little “gift” and let her attention be taken up by the pile of clothes sitting on the table just across from her: a pair of undergarments, jeans, and a shirt that was more feminine than she was used to, but she wasn’t going to pass up dry clothes. They thankfully fit, too, and she made sure to set her own clothes out to dry in the bathroom, though left the sheets, unsure what to do with them. She left her phone out to dry after having found the device still lodged in her pockets, too. It thankfully still worked, but she didn’t feel like messing with it so she turned it off.

Another wail from below led her out into the upstairs wooden walkway, which then took her down the stairs of the country-style home. The smell of maple syrup and pancakes was much stronger when she descended, making her mouth water. The homey appearance of the house was a nice touch, too, and she felt the worries lingering at the back of her mind shrink away. It gave her the confidence to walk into the kitchen where the succulent aroma came from and a beautiful, dirty-blonde haired woman was attempting to appease her brown-haired, green-eyed child’s cries.

_Sarah and Annabelle_ , she named at once, recalling the soldier’s pictures and stories of them.

So she was in Lennox’s home. That was a comforting thought. She smiled softly as she rapped on the wooden frame of the entrance.

“Oh! Catherine! You’re awake!” the woman gasped, turning at the noise. “How are you feeling? Will said not to wake you even to change your clothes, but I tried to get you the warmest sheets…”

The redhead smiled, “Don’t worry—I’m fine. I have a pretty good immune system. Thank-you, by the way. For the clothes and for letting me stay.”

“Well, there was no way I could say no, and not because that silver friend of Ironhide’s decided to just roll up in the middle of the night with you.”

Catherine tilted her head curiously, wondering aloud what happened the night before—having been asleep the whole time—and Sarah Lennox smiled softly in a motherly way as she set Annabelle on the counter now that the little girl had calmed. Wiping her hands briefly, she moved to the griddle where she pulled a plate of pancakes and sausage out from underneath.

“Well, like I said, that silver Autobot came up and you were sleeping in the front. An unusual surprise for ten at night, but nothing we didn’t mind. So Will picked you up, brought you in, and took you up the guest room. Again, I tried to tuck you in tight and warm, and dry you as best as I could without waking you up. I’ll wash those clothes for you if you’d like, by the way. In the meantime feel free to borrow my old clothes,” the blonde-woman smiled and held the plate out to Catherine. The redhead happily took it and smothered the food with maple syrup. It was like heaven in her mouth when she took the first bite—so heavenly that she waited until after many more bites before finally asking a question that had come to mind.

“Are my parents not coming to get me?”

There was an almost mischievous glint in Sarah Lennox’s eyes, “Will took it upon himself to call your folks and let them know you’re going to be staying here for a few days on ‘government business’, or something like that. I think the story was that he’s an agent asking more questions about the Mission City incident, or something silly like that!”

Catherine laughed with the woman, taking another bite. From there the conversation turned into compliments from her on how nice the place was, and they were sincere comments. The kitchen alone was perfect with the mixture of wooden furniture and country-style décor. Floral-like patterns lined the boundaries of the floor and ceiling, the walls were a warm, golden-tan, and the roof and floor were white, the latter made from tile. In the room ahead of her was a dining table, decorated with a wild-flower arrangement and surrounded by three walls with wooden-frame windows covered by cream-colored blinds. If she squinted she could see the front yard leading out to the long driveway that was accustomed to country homes. While she couldn’t see the other rooms, she had a pretty good idea they were just as wonderful, and she made sure Sarah Lennox knew her appreciation.

Little Annabelle was a beautiful addition to it, too, with her wild, yet lovely brown locks that matched her green eyes so well and made it obvious whose daughter she was. She had thankfully lost her early vigor once she was set on the counter, and had taken up staring at Catherine as if she were the oddest thing on the planet. How right she was, considering what the redhead was, but that was only for her and a slecect few alien others to know. The little girl was sweet, though, laughing with that adorable baby-laugh when she was poked in the stomach. Sarah was pleased, too, and Catherine took on a theraputic role for a while to hear out the woman’s woes of trying to appease their little girl. She apparently had her father’s temperment already, and there were many doubts on it getting better.

Around then her breakfast was done, and she offered to help wash the dishes, but was declined at once. She was the guest, and Sarah Lennox would not have a guest doing the dishes in her house. Instead, she was secluded to her high-chair seat at the counter where she amused Annabelle for a little bit while the blonde-haired woman washed the plates. Her awkwardness must have been obvious because the woman turned to her with a sympathetic smile barely a few minutes later.

“Well, if you’re _that_ desperate to help, I suppose I don’t mind a guest fetching my husband to come eat his breakfast,” she giggled. “You’ll find him just outside the backdoor behind you cleaning his guns. Tell him he better come in or it’s going to the horses.”

"Will do,” Catherine laughed with her and, bidding Annabelle good-bye with a silly wave, she turned and made her way through the specified door. She had to pause as she stepped out into the Nevada morning air, and, instead of the usual dirty air of home, she could smell the fresh grass and the pure cleanliness of it all. It was refreshing and she couldn’t help smiling as the sun’s rays warmed her skin. It was definitely a much better day than yesterday—not a cloud in the sky. She looked towards the horizon and could swear the golden fields just went on forever. It a beautiful sight combined with the few trees and horses she could see in the distance.

However, she had a mission, and couldn’t linger too long on the view. The loud thumps coming from behind her were a good tug on her attention, too, and she looked to her left where she spotted her target sitting on a stool underneath the roof of their garage. There was an old truck not too far off with the hood popped, looking like it was being worked on. On the bench in front of him were gun parts all laid out except for the one in his hands that he was cleaning meticulously. She almost found it funny how he was wearing such normal clothes compared to the usual soldier garb she’d seen him in. It was nice, though—he looked more like a father that way.

“Good morning,” she called out, startling the man only a little, and gaining a grin from him when he spotted her.

“Good morning,” he chuckled back, looked down at the black on his hands, and gave her an apologetic look. “I’d give you a proper welcome, but, well, the hands are a little dirty and Sarah hates me getting her clothes dirty.”

She laughed, “Its fine. She wants you to come eat breakfast by the way.”

“Oh, shoot—is it breakfast time already? Time flies when you’re cleaning your toys.”

“Little dangerous for ‘toys’,” she mused with a raised brow.

“That’s why they’re _adult_ toys,” he replied, but then paused after a second and brought his hands to his face. “Uh, that, um, that sounded a lot different from what I meant.”

Catherine couldn’t keep from laughing, but she did manage to wave off his sheepish head scratch with saying she got it and it was fine. Lennox chuckled with her then, but it died down soon enough. The cheer done with, he looked at her with genuine concern.

“So are you doing okay? You had us pretty worried last night when Ironhide said you’d be coming and it was an emergency… What happened?” he inquired, stepping closer. She sighed, looking down and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her borrowed jeans. She was thankful for his paternal worry. He really was a great father, but he wasn’t hers and she didn’t want to have to burden him with her problems. She also didn’t want him to tell her any truth she already knew, but didn’t want to face. Still, she owed him something.

“You know what?” he spoke up after she’d been silent too long. “Don’t worry about it. What matters is if you’re feeling better. You are, right?”

She smiled a little, “So far, yeah. I just… I just had a breakdown is all— a good cry and all that stuff.”

Foregoing his earlier words, Lennox embraced her in a warm hug, and she couldn’t help wrapping his arm around him, burying her head into his shirt a little. She pulled away at the same time he did, and met his fatherly smile with her own.

“It’s okay to have one of those once in a while—even for tough people,” he said softly. “Just so you know.”

She chuckled, “Alright. Anyways, you better go in before your wife gives your food to the horses.”

“Argh… she’s always trying to spoil them!” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “You coming in?”

"I, uh, already had some. I actually wanted to maybe go for a walk around here. Is that okay?”

“Oh, sure. Just let Ironhide know first—he’s out by the horses somewhere. Try to be back by lunch, or Sarah will make me send the big guy after you,” the brown-haired man smiled, ruffling up her hair. “I don’t know how, but she’s got Ironhide on a leash. It’s kind of scary to be honest, but don’t tell her I said that.”

Catherine laughed as he waved and headed back to the house, and then she looked around, wondering how she could have missed the large, black Autobot in question. Lennox had gestured in the general direction he was in, so she followed it, coming around the side of the house that had been in her blind spot. Sure enough, the black mech was a little ways down the hill, making it seem as though everything below his knees had been cut off. He looked to be watching something running around, and she had a good feeling it was the horses. She smiled a little at the thought of him being fascinated by the animals, as he was such normally such a violent, war-loving mech.

With a quick hop over the fence and short walk, she came to the peak of the hill where she saw he was indeed watching the horses. To her surprise, the creatures seemed at ease around him, or at least didn’t care that he was there as they pranced about, chasing each other. He was careful as watched; never moving too much and making sure not to step too close. As she drew closer she could sense the genuine curiosity and unusually calm delight emanating from him. It made her smile grow wider.

“Good morning, Ironhide!” she called out near the bottom of the hill, keeping a safe distance from the romping horses. The large mech looked away from them, and, though his smile was not as bright, it still remained as he took a step closer to her.

“It’s good to see you are better, young one,” he rumbled, his optics looking her over. “You are no longer troubled, then? We were informed you were… distressed.”

“I'm definitely doing a lot better, although I wouldn’t mind a walk to clear my head,” she replied, her gaze trailing along the endless horizon. The urge in her heart to walk among the golden field swelled, and she knew even if Ironhide refused, she would still go. She would not have to face such a moment, though, as the black mech nodded.

“Very well, but try to remain within the boundaries of the Lennox's land. The humans around here can be testy when it comes to trespassers,” he rumbled, his faceplates frowning briefly. “Also, refrain from entering those with horses. They are… uneasy around new things until they become accustomed.”

She raised a brow at the horses near his feet, but they hadn’t bothered to notice her. She nodded, though, and waved at the mech before heading off toward the rising sun. A second fence hop and she was in the empty field next to the horses’ pasture. The grass was taller, coming up a little above her knees, and she let her fingers brush across the tops as she walked through. The scent of grain filled her nose, and it was as calming as the cool breeze that blended with the warm rays into perfection. So perfect, that she felt guilty for letting her thoughts stray from it and into the memories of yesterday.

They came hard and fast, forcing her to pause at one point and focus on sending them back. Tears didn’t come this time, however, and her cheeks remained dry as she continued to walk. She still let the memories flow, slowly returning to the interior of Sideswipe’s form and to the curb. She remembered the rain and the darkness—could feel the cold and wet and pain. She travelled further, rewinding through her wild run; her escape from _that_ place. The pain increased, and it was only her reassurance the memories were but illusions that kept her from wanting to collapse again. Some part of her wished to stop, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to reach back to the truth she had come to accept. The truth she had dreaded for so long and forced herself to deny, but she couldn’t anymore.

Sam didn’t need her, and he couldn’t be what she wanted.

It was a difficult thing to say—the mere thought of it burned her. For so long she had thought she needed him by her side; that he could save her from everything she hated in _that_ place, and in a way he had. She had been able to talk with him about her woes and that had been a temporary fix, but she had hoped one day he would take her away from it all permanently. She had hoped they could leave that place together and be happy with him, but now… now that hope was gone. Sam didn’t and wouldn’t love her how she wanted, and he couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to save her, and she needed to be saved.

She needed to be free from everything, but she could not do it alone. She needed help, and Sam had been the one she had wanted and thought she needed. But now she was alone again. She had no defense but her own will against the world that threatened to chain and suffocate her under its demands. She was alone against those people she had to return to and their demands of perfection that she always failed and was always doomed to fail. Sam had been her only blockade—the only person she could trust with all things. She was alone without him, and she was not sure they could mend. She was not sure if she wanted to. She was not sure of anything.

Though her harsh words to him had been said through anger and pain, they had been what she had held back for so long. She was tired of having to vie for his attention in a contest she wasn’t good enough for. She was tired of trying to be everything for him, when he was nothing for her. He wasn’t even the best friend she knew anymore. It was like she didn’t even know him now, and she could not learn about this new him when he would not give her the time of day! Nothing she had done would work, and she had been too afraid to try anything that might give her away—too afraid to lose what she had left, but now she had nothing.

She sighed as she came to the top of another hill. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but think maybe things could mend. Knowing Sam, she had a feeling he might try to if only to make up for his wrongs, but it wouldn’t be the same. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t devote herself to him as she had. She couldn’t love him anymore, and not only because he was out of her reach. She had to stop for herself. Loving him was only pain and disappointment threatening to drown her in sorrow. She had to let go to begin healing and maybe save herself. _If_ she could be saved. She wasn’t sure anymore.

She looked to the horizon again, the sun slowly climbing up into the sky, and gazed out upon the golden fields and blue background. There was no explanation for it, but suddenly all the despair within her vanished. All the worries and fears and sorrows were no more as she took it in. There before her was freedom unlike she had ever known— an endless plethora of paths to follow where nothing could reach her. No parents; no cage; no society. Just pure freedom with only herself to decide what to do with it, and she would have loved nothing more than to keep walking—to begin taking on one of those paths. And surely she would have had Ironhide’s words not echoed through her mind and kept her rooted to the earth beneath her. She still felt it, though, and the feeling alone was enough to grant her a small measure of peace.

The sound of wheels against grass and moving gears disturbed her for but a moment, and she didn’t bother to turn around to acknowledge whoever had come up behind her. It was not to last, though, as the Autobot spoke, and, to her surprise, it was not Ironhide.

“I heard you were feeling better, but humans that are okay don’t cry, right?” Sideswipe inquired, and Catherine brought a hand to her cheek where it met the wet trickle of a tear. Surprised, she laughed a little and turned to look up at his confused tilt of his head.

“Sideswipe, right?” she began, and he nodded. “I am feeling better. _Much_ better, actually. The tears are happy ones.”

“Wait… So, being happy _and_ sad makes humans cry?” he frowned, his confusion growing.

She laughed again, “You’ll get used to it, but yes. Happiness can make people cry if it’s strong enough.”

“Oh…what’s so happy about here, though? Just a lot of open space,” he hummed, glancing around, uninterested. Catherine didn’t mind, looking back at the endless landscape once more. Again, she felt the freedom overtake her and she had to wipe another fresh batch of tears.

“It might seem weird, but, it’s just… It feels so good here. I can get away from everything—all the shit in life, y’know? It finally feels like I’m free from it,” she spoke softly, and then laughed bitterly, “Of course, I can’t keep it. In a few days it will be over and I’ll have to return home where I’ll have nothing. Not even freedom.”

She could hear the silver mech shift behind her, but he said nothing. She supposed he had nothing to say, not that she expected him to say anything. It gave her time to wonder about his being there and to remember what he had done for her.

She turned back, “Sorry. Here I am being weird for you again when I should be thanking you. Y’know, for bringing me here. Thanks. A lot. I mean it.”

He nodded, still silent. She looked him over then, and found his form interesting. Unlike the other Autobots, his feet were made from wheels which he balanced on with the aid of a prop on the back, like the stopper on the old pair of roller blades she once had. He was far more slender the rest and she knew at once he was built for speed. His torso was a little large, and could have perhaps made him top-heavy, but he obviously dealt with it well. Like the others, his optics were a bright blue, though had a golden-hue in the light. He was a little like Jazz, she realized, at least in height and color. In fact, she was pretty sure they were the same in both characteristics.

Just as she was about to turn back he spoke up, “You have us.”

She looked up, eyebrow raised, and he shifted as if unsure of his words.

“Or, well, that’s what I’m getting. Prime told me and the other new guys you’re welcome among us and can join or whatever. It’s something like that. So, basically, you don’t have ‘nothing’ waiting for you. You’ve got the Autobots or whatever.”

Catherine stared for a few seconds, but soon enough the light bulb went off in her head and a fire of hope unlike any before burst to life in her chest. At once she thought of her time at the secret base. She thought of the Autobots and all the fun she’d had and how she’d never once felt any despair with them. She thought of Bumblebee and his adorable curiosity and sweet concern; of Ratchet and his snarky, but kind demeanor and teachings; of Ironhide’s gruffness and gentleness. She remembered Prime’s offer and his own kindness. And she thought of Jazz, who had always protected her and made her laugh and happy. Overall was the sense of freedom she’d felt with them—the sense that she could be whoever or whatever she wanted to be and not fear judgment; the sense that none of her fears could touch her.

Eyes bright and dried, she turned back towards the scenery with a smile.

“You’re right, Sideswipe. I’ve got the Autobots.”

\----------------------------------------+

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------+

Catherine returned back to the Lennox’s home not long after, her desire urging her to begin working on it at once, and because she had apparently gone too far without realizing it. Sideswipe had come per Ironhide’s orders to bring her back, being closer to her location. He was a little begrudging about it, acting as if it was more punishment than anything else, but she didn’t let him know she had noticed. It was amusing, in a way, to hear him nag about the older mech ordering him around like they were back on Cybertron as he escorted her. “Escorted” being he sped up and then slowed down to stay with her as they walked, and him saying something every so often to break the silence. It made her think he was young in regards to being Cybertronian, possible even younger than Bumblebee, whom showed more maturity than her silver escort.

She would reply sometimes, and he was fun to talk to. She supposed she would have had more fun if she weren’t so focused on the idea that had spawned in her mind. She was never going to go back to that place if she could help it, and that meant being with the Autobots. Goal in mind, the only thing left was the path to it. Normal means weren’t going to work—she was too young to join and she couldn’t go to just any army sign up place to join. No, she needed special means, but she was in luck. Her very ticket into the Autobot-human alliance was letting her stay in their house.

How to convince William Lennox, though? She knew for a fact he would deny her out right if she simply asked to join, so she needed something to make him see she belonged there. Simply stating it was what she wanted or needed wouldn’t work. The alliance was one built on the basis of war. She couldn’t simply go and not expect danger. In fact, she would be in great danger being close to them, but she wasn’t afraid of that. Lennox, however, would be. He was too fatherly and too kind and caring to just let her waltz into such danger, but if she could convince him she belonged with the Autobots then he might forego that. If he thought she wasn’t trained enough, then she would learn. She was more than willing to train to be a soldier if it meant saving herself.

There was one way she knew could ensure it above all else. The power within her was the perhaps the greatest reason for joining the alliance, and yet it was also the greatest reason not to. The discovery of her powers by humanity could be a disaster for her and many others, but she had learned how to hide it. She hadn’t even been caught within a stronghold of Sector Seven, and now the organization was dissolved with Lennox running the new show, who wasn’t expecting her to have any powers. Surely it wouldn’t be difficult to keep her hidden when she was not being sought? And Prime’s didn’t plan for her to become a fighting soldier—he had asked her to become a liaison between the humans and the Autobots. As both the Allspark and a human, did she not fit the qualifications best?

Of course, neither Lennox nor anyone else besides the Autobots knew of her powers, and if she were to use it as a reason, she would have to reveal it. In there was her greatest quarrel—reveal her powers and possibly ensure her joining the Autobots, or keep it hidden and most likely ensure her return to her personal hell? Obviously, the former was the better choice, but there was the worry about what Lennox might say or think or do. Would he still treat like she was his "kid" or would she be an alien to him? She didn’t want to lose his friendship and parental-like care, but she wanted to obtain her freedom more. She needed it.

By the time she and Sideswipe had returned home where Ironhide was waiting for them, her mind was made up. She was going to join the alliance no matter what.

“I’m surprised you actually came back with her,” the black mech rumbled as they came up beside him, casting Sideswipe a sardonic smirk.

The silver mech scowled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He was actually an excellent escort, Ironhide,” Catherine chuckled.

“See? Even the human says so!”

“Don’t show him any sympathy, young one. It makes him reckless,” the black mech mused, the smirk still there.

“I’ll make sure to keep him in line,” she winked, and Sideswipe balked down at her.

“Keep _me_ in line? You’re a little _small_ and _fleshy_ for that.”

She smiled slyly, turning so Ironhide was directly behind her, “I have my ways.”

To emphasize her point, Ironhide folded his arms and gave the silver mech a “look”. Sideswipe frowned, mumbled something incoherent, and rolled off unhappily. The redhead laughed, although she probably shouldn’t have, and grinned up at Ironhide, whom chuckled back.

“Sorry about going too far. Lost track of where I was. Sideswipe was entertaining, though,” she spoke, gesturing after the retreating silver figure.

“It’s fine, and I wouldn’t call him ‘entertaining’ so much as ‘annoying’. It’s at least better than when he first got out amongst the humans,” Ironhide replied, and, seeing her inquiring look, continued. “He caused a lot of trouble when chasing after some Decepticons a few weeks ago, and now he’s under my ‘tutelage’.”

“Decepticons? More have come already?” she asked worriedly, her plan starting to falter.

“Unfortunately, yes, but they are few and scattered. Hiding. But many Autobots have come, too. Sideswipe is only one of many. The rest are either at our temporary base, out scouting, or training under one of the senior officers.”

“Like you and Sideswipe?”

He nodded, “Yes, though we’re only staying until the island base is ready.”

“An island base?”

“I don’t find the prospect of being secluded on a small piece of land surrounded by water promising, but Prime has said it is best for us and the humans,” the black mech sighed, unfurling his arms, and looking down at her. “But do not worry about that, young one. If you are in need of nourishment, Sarah Lennox will most likely be preparing lunch in a few hours.”

She shook her head, “I ate not that long ago, but it is getting hot, so going inside isn’t such a bad idea.”

He parted ways with her then, and she went inside where she found Sarah pulling a purse strap over her shoulder while Lennox stood behind her, cradling Annabelle in his arms. His wife grabbed keys from a side wall and kissed her child and husband before heading toward the hallway leading to the front door. She missed saying good-bye, the blonde woman already leaving by the time she made it to the brown-haired man’s side.

“She’s going shopping,” Lennox explained. “But it’s really her plot to make me take care of Annabelle until dinner time.”

“She’s out _that_ long to _shop_?”

“Well, she's not just shopping, and it's more like she'll be gone until two or three.”

Catherine opened in mouth in a “ah” form, and Lennox gave the “yeah” look as he hushed Annabelle who had begun to whimper a little. Already seeing where things might quickly go, he excused himself to take her to her crib and told Catherine to feel free to watch T.V. or something. He left then, practically rushing down the hall and to a room on the right. She smiled a little, wondering how the soldier was going to handle appeasing a baby, and made her way through an arched hallway into their entertainment room where she settled on the lean-back chair. Instead of picking up the remote, though, she sat and thought.

With Sarah gone it would be a good time to show Lennox her powers. It would be best if only he knew and no one else. The fewer humans that knew, the better. How should she break it to him, though? She needed to find an energy source first of all. She had used up most of the power the last day she’d been at the Sector Seven base, and had yet to refuel the energy source. After that, though, what to do with it? She thought of maybe repairing Ironhide or Sideswipe, but she doubted the mechs would let her so as to keep the secret. That meant she needed to create one of those drone-like machines like she did that one time. It’d need to be small, though—she didn’t want a repeat of before. She couldn’t use the Lennox’s appliances, though.

_But I can use my phone!_ She silently shouted, standing up in revelation. She hurried upstairs, and found her phone still lying where she left it. Her clothes and the bed sheets were gone, though, and she thanked the woman for not moving her phone, too. Now she needed an energy source, but she couldn’t go cutting any random wires. There had to be a free energy source somewhere—perhaps a generator or something.

_I’ll need to ask Lennox… but not seem weird about it_ , she mused on her way back down. She was startled midway through forming a good question when the man suddenly appeared out of the room near the bottom of the stairs. He looked visibly exhausted, his shoulders slumped a little, and she felt a sorry for him. Her terror of child-care increased, too.

“So kids really are harder to take care of then soldiers,” she began with a raised brow, and the man groaned.

“You have _no_ idea. I love her, I do, but she cries _so_ much and _refuses_ to sleep unless I do everything just right, otherwise she complains. _Please_ tell me it gets better,” he sighed, and Catherine gave him a sympathetic grin.

“Uhhh…”

“Nevermind. Don’t tell me.”

“Well, in that case, let me distract you with a question: Do you use a generator to power your place? Just curious 'cause I didn’t really notice any power lines or anything…”

“Well, we do have one in the garage, but that’s for power outages. The lines go underground since we didn’t want any accidents in the pastures.”

“Makes sense. So what now, Mr. Dad?” she smiled humorously, folding her arms. He smiled a little and revealed a baby monitor hidden in his hand.

“I’m going to get back to work. Need to finish up the guns and then work on the old truck so my cousin can use it when I’m gone. Sarah will need the extra help with Annabelle to take care of. Anyways, your welcome to the fridge or T.V. if you’d like,” he replied, gesturing towards the kitchen and the room she had been in just moments before. She nodded back and he took off out through the backdoor to the garage, leaving her on the stairs. She waited until she heard the door close before making her way into the kitchen to stare at the door. She looked down at her phone as the slivers of doubt began to seep in. She shook them away, though, knowing what she had to do. What she needed to do.

Phone gripped tight with determination, she stepped outside once more. Lennox was already at his bench working, but this time Ironhide was nearby. She could see Sideswipe coming up, although he looked reluctant with the black mech eyeing him like a hawk. She spared them only another second’s glance before walking over to the bench. Lennox didn’t jump at her entrance this time, but he did give her an inquiring look, urging her to explain herself.

“Figured maybe I could help out. It’s the least I can do, and don’t tell me no because I’m a ‘guest’, okay?” she spoke, quickly adding the last part when he looked ready to rebuke her statement.

He shrugged, “Alright… I guess you can help set up the truck for repairs. You can start by getting the generator out of the corner. I need to recharge the battery.”

She nodded and went to work, heading into the corner he’d pointed at to wheel out the hulking piece of metal. She could feel her skin tingle at the touch—a sign it had a good deal of electricity in it just waiting for her to absorb. She just needed to start it up.

“Okay, got it. Does it need any gasoline or anything?” she asked, having tugged the thing to the front of the truck.

“Nah, I filled it up earlier. Go ahead and get the clamps from the wall and attach them. You know how right?”

She nodded a second time, grabbed the wires, and headed back, but didn’t attach them right away. Instead, she paused and glanced over at Lennox. His back was turned, his focus on putting his gun together. She placed a hand on her pocket where she had placed her phone to make her job easier. She pulled it out, holding it tight, and, seeing he was still busy, started the generator. The noise at once caught the man’s attention, not having instructed her to do so, and he whipped around with wide eyes that only got wider. He shouted out, alerting Ironhide and Sideswipe who turned in alarm, but he was barely rising from his chair when Catherine pressed her hand onto the metal parts of the generator.

At once the electricity flowed into her, but instead of harming or killing her like it should have, it filled her energy stores. The Allspark’s power swelled, ready for her control. Lennox meant to rush over to help her, but the sight of her calmly touching it as if nothing was wrong stopped him. His confusion only grew when she pulled away—still nothing wrong—and held up her hand that held her phone. Her iris took on the ring of blue light as she met his gaze and called on the power within, commanding it into the phone. At once her body lit in the thin lines of blue light she was familiar with, although not as dense or as numerous as before, except at her hand where sparks began to form.

They jutted out from her flesh and clung to the phone, diving through the plastic exterior to the metal workings and wires inside. Twisting gears could be heard and then it began to change, the layers shifting and moving until two legs and then two arms appeared. Last was a head, completing the formation of a tiny metal being that resembled a very small miniature version of the two Cybertronians watching with surprise. It peered with blue eyes at Lennox as he gawked, odd chirping sound coming from what looked like its mouth. On its chest was the phone’s screen, which displayed a question mark, hinting at the nature of its unspoken words.

Catherine’s skin and eyes returned to normal as the flux of power settled, and she looked at the small drone she had created. As if sensing her, it turned its head and met her gaze, the question mark becoming a smiling face. She smiled back at it briefly, but then she met Lennox’s eyes, which were wider than she’d ever seen them go before. His mouth was literally on the ground, too, and she used the shocked silence to speak.

“Lennox, I want to join the Autobots.”

\----------------------------------------+

**TMWolf:** _Okay, so like I said: I take some creative licensing. Like with the generators. I actually tried looking all this up about how dangerous they were, and I got enough to figure that touching them in certain areas could shock you and be potentially lethal. If not... um, Lennox has very, very, very poor choice of generator? Yeah. More use of my license will occur in the next chapter, but um, yeah. :D_

_ANYWAYS. So this has been my take on Lennox's family, including Lennox himself. I, personally, see him this way according to his actions in the movies and books. Same goes for Ironhide. Granted, he's never interacted with Annabelle or Sarah CANNONICALLY, but we all know he so hung out with Lennox. And while his soft spot for kids isn't cannon either, it just goes with him so well that I had to keep it, too. He's Grandpa-bot after all. He likes to be around the grandchildren n' all. Now Sideswipe. To be honest, his personality isn't shown much in cannon material (comic/novel/movie), but from what I got he's kind of juvenile, arrogant, and slightly jerkish. That's actually not too far off from his G1 counterpart, only no pranking. Yes, it's true- canon live-action Sideswipe is not a prankster. Someone else took that roll. It still works in my books, though :P Also, the bit from Ironhide about the "trouble" he caused is actually canon. It happens in the Tales of the Fallen or something-like-that comic book where he caused major car wrecks when he first came. Silly Sideswipe- no swiping. Er- no causing trouble, I mean!_

_So, um, this is the first of the recovery for Catherine, whose doing very well, apparently! And yes, she did just create a life form. That will be divulged into greatly, I give my word on that. :) For now, though, it's fiery red-head time! And, um, that's all for now I guess~ Happy New Year everyone! :)_


	16. I Can Go the Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song from Disney's Hercules xD

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Wha— _what_?” was all Lennox could bring himself to say. It was hard enough to believe the young redhead before him wasn’t _dead_ after _directly_ touching the generator, which should have fried her or burned her or _something_ , but now there was a miniature robot that had been her phone just a few split seconds ago climbing over the top of her hand and up to her shoulder. Its eyes were eerily familiar to those of the two Autobots gaping with him, but it didn’t look as intelligent in the way it rubbed against her cheek, nuzzling her like a cat would. Worst of all, Catherine was staring back at him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“It’s a long story so I’ll tell you straight up: I’m the Allspark,” she replied, and continued when his expression remained dumbfounded. “You know—the Cube? That thing you had Sam run around with? The one we used to destroy Megatron? That Cube. And you remember how it can cure and bring the Autobots to life? Well, I have that power, as my little phone-drone shows.”

As if to confirm her statement, the little robot chirped, a smiling face flashing onto its chest screen. Lennox still could not close his mouth, nor could he bring himself to move, his mind literally about to shut down from the confusion running rampant through it. He did manage to shake his head, although that did nothing to clear his thoughts. It was only when he saw the redhead smile sadly that he regained some composure and took a step forward, running a hand through his hair to try and wrap his mind around it.

“What… When… H-how did this…?”

“How did I become the Allspark? That’s part of that long story I was talking about, and I’d be happy to tell you if you’ll agree to me joining the human-Autobot alliance.”

“Join the—No! It’s too dangerous, you’re too young, and this is just…” he rambled, trailing as his mind faltered on words to say again.

_I knew he’d say that. You’re just too kind, Lennox_. “You know very well I’m more than capable of fighting in dangerous situations, and, yes, I am technically too young to join, but I’ll assume Prime didn’t say anything and tell you that I don’t have to be a soldier—I can be a liaison. It’s what Prime asked me to be, anyways. And, frankly, Lennox, while I am human, I'm the Allspark, too. In a way, I belong with the Autobots.”

“Catherine,” Ironhide rumbled, stepping closer, “it was not wise to use your powers so openly. And were you not the one who thought it was safest to not join us?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Lennox called out, moving much closer now and looking between them. “What the _hell_ are you talking about? When did Prime ever talk to you about any ‘liaison’ business and why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t _you_ tell me about this Allspark business and everything else, too?”

Catherine sighed, though not with exasperation, “How do you think you would have reacted? You would probably be even worse than you are now. Not to mention the place we were staying was full of people who experimented on the Allspark. And yes, I did say it was best if I didn’t stay with the Autobots, but things are different now. With Sector Seven gone and you in charge, Lennox, I don’t think I need to worry about being experimented on or studied. And, frankly, while I could hide at home, it would be better if I hid among the Autobots. That way, if I was found out, they would already be there.”

“Catherine,” the brown-haired man spoke sternly, grabbing her arms and turning her to face him. “ _Please_ tell me what is going on. I’m pretty lost right now, and it’s sounding like a lot of this has to do with NEST, which means I need to know about it.”

She waited a moment, watching his expression, before nodding, “Alright. I’ll tell you everything.”

There, standing before her three-member audience she began to explain everything that had happened barely two months ago. She explained how her blood was now Energon-based, allowing the Allspark’s energy to bond with her. She left out the visions she’d seen or how the power works, but she told him what she could do, such as revive Jazz. He’d gone wide-eyed then, and she had to elaborate on how, yes, the shard was useless. _She_ had all the reviving and healing powers, and the shard was just a ruse to keep Sector Seven and everyone else off her tracks. They couldn’t afford to have their friend and the Allspark in the organization’s hands, subjected to God-knows-what. She continued on from there, telling him what Prime had asked and spoken to her about, and how she’d thought it was safest to stay home, but not anymore. Ironhide placed his agreement here and there or added some input she didn’t know, and all the while Lennox watched so intently she was afraid he might explode from whatever emotion was thundering inside him. Never once, though, did she see any hint of him considering her some freak, and she silently thanked him as she finished.

“Jesus,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair again. She waited as he turned away and looked at the ground with his hands on his hips, deep in thought. She felt some of her hope faltering as he closed his eyes to sigh and then turn back to her. “So nobody besides the Autobots and me know? No one found out?”

“No one. We made sure, and I know how to hide my powers, so not even my parents know.”

He sighed again as he nodded, “That’s good. Still—you’re their Allspark? I just… It’s... it's unbelievable. Hell, I wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t shown me with that robot phone thing. Is it like them?”

“No. Or, at least, I don’t think so. I think it’s like the one from before at the base that I told you about. I’d have to ask Ratchet to be sure,” she replied, stroking the phone’s head, which made it chirp happily.

“And you can create more? Using electricity? That’s why you weren’t electrocuted?”

“Yes, although I can only take in so much.”

“Ah,” he hummed, and became oddly silent, just staring at her. His expression looked stuck between complete, utter confusion and understanding. She wasn’t entirely surprised—it was a lot to take in for someone who was just learning it and didn’t know all that much about the Autobots. He was actually taking it better than she expected. She glanced up at Ironhide to check on him, and he was his usual self, apparently fine with whatever decision was made. She could still sense his unease with her revelation, although he was relieved it was Lennox she told and not someone else. She looked up at Sideswipe, too, who had decided to hang back during her tale. His face was impassive, and she didn’t really know what to make of the sense of confused awe coming from him.

With Lennox still silently staring she decided to repeat her question, “So… Will you let me join the alliance? NEST, was it?”

That seemed to work; his eyes blinked rapidly as he was brought back from wherever his thoughts had taken him. His lips set into a firm frown, and, by his stance, she could tell what he was going to say. It hurt her hopes a little, but she had gone too far now to be denied.

“I’m sorry, but it’s just too dangerous. You’re better off staying home. We’re going to be hunting down Decepticons, which will put you right in their grasp. It’s too dangerous for both your safety and your secret. I just can’t allow it. Furthermore, your parents wouldn’t—.”

“I don’t care what my parents think! I may not be a ‘legal’ adult, but I am more than capable of making my own decision, and, frankly, they don’t have any right to tell me how to live my life!” she snarled suddenly, surprising both herself and Lennox. She quickly recovered and continued, “Furthermore, if I become a liaison like Prime asked I won’t need to go hunting—I can remain at the base where I’ll be safe. And I’ll learn how to fight. You know I can use a gun, and I’m already fairly strong from wrestling. If that’s not good enough right now then train me! I’m willing to work and learn! I _want_ to join! Please!”

He met her eyes for a few seconds before looking up at Ironhide, “Is that true? Prime wants her to be a liaison—nothing else? And you guys would protect her at all times?”

“Prime has made it clear he would not have her fight directly, and yes, we would ensure she would be protected at all times if it was her wish to join us.”

“So you guys want her with you?”

“We would not refuse her by our side,” the black mech nodded. “But we only want what is best for her, and we will abide by her choice. It is her right.”

He turned back to the redhead, her eyes bright with a determined fire of hope. She was so young though. She was just a kid, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care if she got hurt or not. It was probably because he had his own little girl, but he couldn’t help wanting to keep Catherine out of harm’s way. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if sending her back home would be doing just the opposite of that. After all, had she not fled from her home? And then she had just exploded about her parents just now. She wouldn’t talk about it, but he knew now, without a doubt, something had happened. Still, the life she wanted wasn’t an easy one. It was dangerous beyond belief to fight the Decepticons, but, then again, she knew that, didn’t she? She had fought with him at Mission City and done a damned good job for her first time. And now, here she was determined and willing to do anything to go into it again. Who was he to deny her?

“You’re willing to go through the training? And let me to tell you it’s not easy. We’re fighting an entirely different enemy from any human or terrorist, which means the training is a hell of a lot harder. I’ve already had men quit even before they knew what they were up against. You sure you can handle it?” he asked sternly, gazing down at her with hard eyes, but she didn’t waver.

“Yes. It's what I want, and I won’t let some tough training stop me.”

“Then I’m going to give you a trial run. For the few days you’re here, you’re going to get the full deal, and you will do it all without complaint. If I hear even one, then you can forget it. I don’t care if you have the Allspark powers or whatever—you will _not_ get into NEST. Not even when you become old enough.”

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face, “Yes!”

“What was that?” he inquired, raising a brow to hint at her fault.

“Yes, _sir_!” she saluted, and he nodded with approval. He sighed for a third time and ruffled the top of her head.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that? Sarah is going to kill me when she finds out,” he grumbled, and a few snickers came from the redhead. He grinned a little back, but then turned to her with a somber look. “Alright, we need to discuss how we’re going to do this. You’re also going to help me finish the truck and chores. Now that you’re a soldier, you don’t get the guest treatment from me.”

Catherine gave him another “yes, sir”, and happily followed him over to the truck and work bench where he began to relay orders. She followed them to the mark, all the while smiling for the sheer fact that he was giving her a chance to get what she wanted and needed, and because he hadn’t rejected her despite knowing she wasn't fully human anymore. She was finally leaving that place—hopefully for good—and would be with those she was happiest with. Remembering two of them were there, she used a few small, free moments to look back at Ironhide, whom was watching her with his usual gaze. She could sense he was happy she would be around them, but he had also become wary, and she silently apologized for that. She would make sure he didn’t need to worry so much.

When she turned away at Lennox’s call, so did Ironhide, but the black mech faced the silver mech rather than the brown-haired man. Sideswipe’s face was still stuck as Catherine had seen it, although his frown had deepened. The black mech already had a good idea of what was running through his student’s processor, as Prime had not told all the Autobots what Catherine was—only that she was important, a friend, and was to be protected. It had been done so for in the event any of thier weaker-willed were interrogated, but now there was no hiding it from him. If the younger mech was angry, he expected it, and so waited as Sideswipe found his words.

_“She… That human is the Allspark?”_ he spoke over their private comm. link channel.

He nodded, _“Yes, and she must be protected at all costs. You must not speak of this to anyone else save me and Prime's group. Is that understood?”_

Sideswipe nodded back, and then his optics locked onto the redheaded female’s form, the thought in his processor working hard around an idea. He was not given long to ponder, however, as his mentor pulled him away to go train in the fields. He reluctant agreed and left, though spared Catherine one final glance back.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

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The next few days were, without a doubt, murder, and not just for Catherine. Lennox hadn’t been kidding when he said his wife would kill him. He ended up talking to the blonde-haired woman the night he had agreed to train Catherine, and the redhead had no problems hearing the shouts. Mrs. Lennox was not happy with her husband taking a young girl from her parents into some government business involved with fighting giant aliens. By some miracle, he managed to persuade Sarah into letting the redhead train for a few days to see if she would manage. If she didn’t, she would go home, but if she did, and he agreed, then she would be staying with them until he had to leave. She would go with him to the naval base, of course, and he would make it happen by pulling a few strings and using a few favors to make her eighteen on file, and to also put her up for liaison training. While Catherine would forever wonder what magic Lennox had used, she was just glad the matter had been settled. Sarah was still moody those few days, though, and her husband suffered for it at night on the couch.

Of course, that didn’t seem all that bad in Catherine’s point of view. Lennox, however, didn't feel the same, as she was pretty sure he took his pain out on her. She didn’t dare complain, though. And, in all honesty, it wasn’t that terrible. Waking up at five in the morning was pretty easy, as she was used to waking up early for school. Jogging at the five in the morning, however, wasn’t so nice, especially when it was a good six mile long path that he made her take. She did a lot of jogging for wrestling, but the most she’d even done in one straight go was four miles. Six and her legs weren’t very happy with her, but she was still okay. Then came the push-ups and sits up, and while they were a lot more than she did in wrestling, that was still okay. It didn’t end, though. As soon as breakfast was over there was more toning and strength and endurance building and speed training. Again, she was so glad she did wrestling, as it prevented her from dying the first half of the day.

After the physical training, Lennox pushed her right into her weapons. She half-expected to begin actually shooting, but it wasn’t to be. Instead, he had her learn every part of the gun he had been cleaning, which was to become their main type of weapon use against the Decepticons. It reminded her of one of the ones from the Halo games, although it used compact, saber-like rounds that were strong enough to penetrate through Cybertronian armor. Hers was unloaded, of course, and she spent hours taking it apart and learning each piece, only to have to put it back together again. Needless to say, putting it back together was a lot harder than taking it apart. It took what felt forever, but she eventually got it done—only to do it again, and again, and again until she knew it all by heart. Only then did he allow her to actually begin aiming and gathering her stance together. Thankfully that wasn’t so hard, as she’d gone shooting before, although now she has a scope instead of a ball to focus her aim.

It wouldn’t be until the next day that she would actually begin shooting, using clay pigeons as targets. That she was definitely used to, but the firing was very different—it was more like shooting a pistol rather than a scattered blast range. Thankfully, Lennox was patient and she had extra help with the Autobots, too. Ironhide was an excellent teacher when it came to aiming and timing, but what would one expect from a robot millions of years old that was built for war? Sideswipe did his share, too, and he was actually more helpful than she expected. He was fun to be around as before, though theyir conversations were more serious this time around, generally involving fixing her aim or some friendly advice. She did okay and learned fast, although she was pretty sure she could have done better if she hadn’t been tired from her morning workout.

Her third day was the hardest. By then her limbs had begun to ache from their extended and strenuous use. Wrestling was a tough sport, but training to fight Decepticons was even harder. She still pushed through it all. For one, the soreness would ease when she worked the lactic acid out, and there was no way she was going to give up on or ruin her chance of joining the Autobots. A few sore limbs were no excuse, so she bit back any groan or hiss of pain she might have had. It thankfully got a little better by midday after she’d worked her muscles, had lunch—she thanked God for Sarah’s holy cooking skills—and then practiced shooting the clay pigeons again. It wasn’t to last, though, as Lennox had a surprise for her. Instead of just pigeons, she was going to work with an actual Autobot. Apparently, the NEST soldiers that continued on got to do the very same thing, treating the situation as if it was a hunt for the Decepticons.

Her opponent was Sideswipe, whom was all too happy to show her up if only for her little “I’ll keep him in line” days ago. She only slightly regretted saying it as Lennox gave her the rules: she had to hit at least three different vital spots with a total of ten shots. Non-vital shots didn’t count, and if Sideswipe got her before then she was dead. Just when she was ready to say that there was no way she could win, her mentor explained that Sideswipe could only use his blades and he had to block her to where she couldn’t get away, and that they’d also have it take place in a small area near the edge of the land with a lot of trees to represent buildings and obstacles. While it was better, she was still pretty sure it was one-sided. Sideswipe, on the other hand, had no doubts, and constantly gave her victorious smirks whenever she looked.

Still she trudged on, remaining quiet as Ironhide drove her and Lennox over. If there was any good news, it was that it would only last five minutes and the trees were actually thicker than she expected. Not that it meant it wasn’t enough room for the slender mech to edge his way through. She found that out barely a minute into the match when she had taken up hiding behind a particularly thick bunch and heard the groan of wood bending and bark cracking. She’d looked and found Sideswipe pressing through, which brought about a few choice words she would never repeat around Annabelle.

While Lennox had told her it was a firefight match, it was more of her running her ass off to get as far away as she could to get off two or three shots before running again while Sideswipe kept getting closer. He was fast even on the rough ground—the trees weren’t doing a lick of good—and he was even better at avoiding his vitals being hit. Hell, she was barely even able to strike his normal armor with the jerk ducking or shifting out of the way like some slick shit. Of course, her technique got old fast, and Sideswipe had apparently held back the entire time, as, about three minutes in, he was suddenly always right at her heels, leaving her no time to fire. That, in turn, led to him cornering her by stabbing his blades—which were actually pretty cool—into the ground in front of her. She knew she’d lost and didn’t bother running as he grinned victoriously at her. "Jerk" was only one of the rude words she had for him.

Lennox and Ironhide were more sympathetic, saying she lasted a decent amount of time and she had managed to land three—albeit non-vital— hits. She supposed that should have made her feel better, but a certain silver mech wouldn’t have it, and constantly teased her throughout the rest of the night when she was finally given a break. Thankfully he would get tired of it—mostly because she ignored him in favor of the _fantastic_ star-gazing on the farm. He was much better to talk with then, and she learned a little about him, like how he was a younger generation born for war and how he was one of the best. While she doubted his skills, she let him brag and found it kind of nice to listen to. It made him seem more relatable, or that was the best way she could think to describe it. He asked her things, too, and she would answer. Sometimes he listened with earnest, but other times he would brush her off if an idea bored him. Normally it would have annoyed her, but she would just end up laughing when his “bored” face appeared.

That was also the time when she finally got to interact with her little phone “drone”, which she had gotten around to calling Teletraan for the fact he was a type of telephone than transformed and she wanted to make it special so she added in an extra “a”. He—or, well, she just assumed it was a ‘he’ since their kind didn’t really have genders—seemed to like it and always answered to the call. Although he was “Cybertronian”, he would still act like a phone and, was by all means, far better than any phone in existence. She could access the Internet with him instead of just calls or texts, and she could bypass a lot of security. He was like her personal hacking computer, only smaller and able to talk through emotion icons and symbols. That had been difficult to get through, but her powers allowed her to sense what he wanted more than anything else. Granted, he didn’t really seem to need much—in fact, he was happy just being around her. He really was like some kind of pet, and she loved it.

Sometimes Ironhide would join them at night, but most times he was off by himself or, to her surprise, with Sarah Lennox. She hadn’t honestly gotten a lot of time to spend with the blonde-haired woman, but she was always nice and motherly when they did hang out, so she couldn’t help but wonder how Ironhide was “leashed”—as Lennox said—by her. She would try to sneak some peeks, but all she would generally see was them talking. There one thing she noticed: Annabelle was always with them in those moments, and Ironhide would generally be watching the little girl with the softest expression she’d ever seen come from him. It spiked her curiosity, but she never attempted to pry. She didn’t even ask Sarah, though made note of the woman’s comments about thinking it was adorable how gentle the "big guy" was with Annabelle despite being so big and a robot.

She was going to have plenty of time to think on it, though, as on the fourth day Lennox didn’t take her training. In fact, she woke up without the man hovering over her as he nudged her awake—he would have shouted, but he didn’t want to wake the baby—and at nine in the morning. That alone was very surprising, and when she came down she found breakfast and his wife waiting to tell her to meet him outside when she was done. She did as told, locating the soldier soon enough, working diligently on the truck again. When he turned to meet her his face was grim, and she suddenly expected the worse.

And then he said okay. She could join.

Her joy literally blew out of her body, through the atmosphere, and onto the next galaxy over. She somehow didn’t start jump around screaming, and it was probably because the soldier continued on, informing her that there were going to be some special things. “Things” being that she couldn’t tell anyone about what he had done, meaning her age change and the fact she was going to be given special quarters and special training with _his_ group. Furthermore, she had to keep a low profile for most of her first year there so people could become used to her presence and not get suspicious while his “buddies” got her officially situated. She agreed fully and heartedly, glad to just finally have her dreams in her grasp. Then he brought up the topic of her parents.

They had talked about it before on the day she revealed her powers, but not all that much. She certainly hadn’t explained her feelings towards them, but she was pretty sure he could guess. However, despite that, something needed to be done. Firstly was telling them her intentions. Although the papers put her as eighteen for everyone else, it would be better if her parents knew so there wouldn’t be trouble. They were her family, after all. She then asked what if they weren’t her family anymore, and that led into some conflicting talk with Lennox. In the end, she told more than she would have liked to let him worry about, but it convinced him enough to agree to override their decision. It helped she was the Allspark, and that her presence would endanger them, too. Not that she was so worried about that.

With that settled, and her decision about her parents in mind, Lennox told her she was going home tomorrow with Sideswipe to get her things and then come back to stay the remainder of the wait with them. She couldn’t help asking what they would do if her parents attempted to make any calls about her leaving, but he just told her not to worry—they had it covered. She trusted him, and so spent the last bit of that day listening to how things would go down and preparing for the next day.

It was harder than she thought, trying to figure out what she could say to those people. There were so many things she wanted to tell them, but it couldn’t be just _any_ words. She was going to leave them behind forever and never look back, and she had to make sure they knew exactly why. Maybe it was petty, but she wanted them to feel every margin of the pain she had suffered because of them. It was time for them to face their own truth, and by the end of that day she knew exactly what to say. All that remained was getting there.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“You sure you’re ready? You look a little nervous,” Lennox smiled comfortingly as he came up beside Catherine, whom had taken up standing on the front porch, her arms folded across her chest. Teletraan peered out from the pocket of her jacket to chirp back at the man before he was nudged back into his alternate form. She sighed then, looking out at where Sideswipe was waiting in his vehicle form—oddly more patient than usual—and then looked up at Lennox for a moment before looking back with a shrug.

“As I’ll ever be, I guess. Not every day a sixteen—er, _eighteen_ year old disavows their parents. It needs to be done, though. We’re better off without each other, to be honest,” she replied, and felt a warm hand wrap around her shoulders.

“Well, you know I don’t completely agree with it, but... I’m not you. Just don’t regret what you do, kiddo, ‘cause you can’t take it back.”

She smile a little, “Yeah. I know. I don’t plan to... By the way, I was wondering—what _really_ convinced you to agree to this? Was I really that persuasive?”

“Well, you did have some good points… buuut Ironhide helped a little when you weren’t looking.”

“Ah. I will have to thank him,” she hummed, and looked up at Lennox. “Thanks, by the way.”

The brown-haired man smiled back, hugging her close for a moment before turning away, leaving her alone again. She sighed once more, her heart thumping anxiously. She knew her plan was what she had to do, but she was so afraid to fail—so afraid to fall back into that cage. She could do it, though. If she could survive an alien war and have the courage to reveal her powers and take such a risk, then she could do it. She just had to take those first steps.

The silver Stingray honked loudly, his patience finally up. She chuckled and descended down to the dirt path. His door opened for her and she slid in, this time marveling at his interior. She hadn’t been able to do so before, and it was stunning. She would never admit it, but she kind of preferred it to Jazz’s vehicle form. It was roomier and there was just something she liked about his kind of vehicle. She would never admit that to Sideswipe, either. His ego was high enough already.

“So this time we _are_ going to your house, right?” he inquired and she knew he was smirking.

“Yep, so get to it. It’s about three hours and I want to get back in time for dinner,” she shot back, smacking his steering wheel lightly.

“Hey, hey, watch the merchandise! I don’t have to do this for you, y’know,” he grumbled, starting his engine and taking off just as she put her seatbelt on.

“Actually, you do. Ironhide said so. He’s got you W-H-I-P-P-E-D. Whipped,” she grinned, adding in the sound of a whip crack.

“Pssh, he wishes. I’m just tired of being in this dirty place. The paved roads are much better on my frame.”

“Oh my God, I’m riding with a prima donna!” she groaned, leaning back and smacking her forehead for emphasis. Teletraan decided to make his debut, poking his head out and showing a face sticking its tongue out while he chirped some incoherent words.

“Oh shut up or I’ll boot you both out.”

“Do that and Ironhide will destroy you within an inch of your life. Literally.”

“Please, I can take him,” the vehicle huffed.

She raised a brow, “So that’s why you landed face first in that pile of horse crap and the mud puddle and the rest of the ranch?”

“… Shut up.”

She smirked and then burst into laughter, earning more “shut-ups” from Sideswipe. If there was one thing she could out-do him in, it was comebacks, and the mech was going to be at her mercy for the entire ride. It was going to be a wonderful three hours.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _Alright. So that's my Lennox reaction. Honestly, that's what I expect from him. I don't figure a soldier who's fought against aliens and seen the Allspark in action would freak out more than he did. Also, he's a dad. You have to expect everything when you're taking care of a baby- especially if that baby is Annabelle. So, I made him reasonable, although terribly confused. And this is also where some of my, ah, "artistic license" comes in with regards to her joining NEST :) As for the Autobots' reactions... Well, as Ironhide put it, they want what's best for her. She's both the Allspark and their friend, and, well, they're still new to the whole human thing so there you go. I thought Sarah acted correctly. She is a mother, after all, and any child in distress activates her motherhood mode! Oh, but just wait on her. She's got some evilness to her ;)_

_Oh, and Sideswipe? He's acting like an arrogant, short-tempered, comedic, jerk? Why, yes. Yes he is._ _But like Sarah, there is still more to him to see- just have to be patient to pick through his armor ;)_

_And now it's time to head home to "disavow" her parents, as she put it. So, y'know, exciting, big changes coming along._


	17. Don't Look Back in Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oasis - Don't Look Back in Anger

\----------------------------------------

Catherine had Sideswipe pull up on the opposite side of the street, one house down from hers. He didn’t question her; mostly because her face had lost any traces of the laughter than had been there only minutes before, replaced by hard coldness and determination. She didn’t leave right away, though. She sat in his driver’s seat just staring at the dark, wooden front door of the brick structure, with her hands clenched tight in her lap. His scanners told him her heart was racing, pumping adrenaline through her veins, but they couldn’t tell him it was from the odd mixture of fear and fury coarsing through her. Just when he thought to say something to maybe encourage her, she let out a deep breath of air and stepped out.

She paused to breathe again at his door, and then closed it for him. Teletraan chirped up at her with concern, a question mark on his screen, and she reassured him with a smile before nudging him back into her pocket. From there she slowly, but surely, took the first step forward and then the next. It really shouldn’t have been so hard. Her parents weren’t even home yet, and probably wouldn’t for maybe twenty minutes or so. Still, each step felt as if she had the weight of the entire world on her back. It only became worse as she approached the porch and, shuffling under the welcome mat, found the spare key to unlock the door.

Her dogs met her at once, whining and licking at her, and she let them out for a quick break. It was the least she could do for the only beings that had treated her lovingly her whole life here in the house. Once they were inside, though, they were forgotten as she headed up to her room. It was as she left it; the bed messy from a habit of never making it solely because she’d ruin it later, her workout clothes drying in the bathroom, and various organized piles of her things. She spared them only a few moments before going to her closest and procuring a large duffle bag that was carelessly tossed onto the bed. Clothes soon joined it in one large pile that was increased with a few more personal things. She put as much as it could handle, and then used a backpack to gather up the extra bits like her drawings and electronics, although she did pause to wonder if she would even get to use them. In the end, she let her first choice win and took them. Besides, Teletraan might want some friends.

She remembered to grab her things from her bathroom, too, before returning back downstairs where she set her baggage by the front door, and then took up sitting at the counter, waiting. It didn’t long before she pulled Teletraan out from her pocket and let him entertain her by playing Scrabble and showing silly smiling faces that did a good job of temporarily making her forget why she was waiting. She took some relief realizing the cage wasn’t around her. It was just another house that she was free to enter and leave. It couldn’t keep her here anymore; she was no longer a little bird.

She hated how the doubt would creep into her thoughts, though. She knew this was what she needed and wanted to do, but was it right for her to do? Did her parents really deserve her spite? Wouldn’t it be better for them to just think she had run away or whatever Lennox had planned for her excuse or something? Then they would feel the sadness of loss rather than what she wanted them to experience. After all, it wasn’t _all_ their fault was it? Conflicts generally came from both ends, and the more she thought on it, the more she came to understand her faults that had collided with theirs. But still—her disgust and hate for them was stronger, and, in the end, when the sound of a car pulling up came from outside, she decided to continue on her path.

She ushered Teletraan back into her pocket as she turned to the backdoor and waited. She breathed in deeply many times, preparing herself, but none of it seemed enough. It was going to have to be, though, as the dogs began to huddle around the door, meaning they were coming. And then the door opened.

Shock came first, then worry, and then anger.

“Catherine! What are you—where have you been? Why did you leave like that without telling us!” her father, whom had entered first, hollered as they came near her, dropping their things at the door. She stood to meet them, moving out into the pathway, and let them stare down at her, though she refused to waver as she returned the gaze.

“We were so worried when you didn’t come home! And then that man called about something to do with the government!” her mother wailed next, though she refused to let them embrace her this time. She wasn’t going to be fooled into their facade like before. Not again. Never again.

“I hope you have a good explana—“

“I’m leaving,” she spoke up loudly and firmly, effectively silencing them both for a good ten seconds.

“ _What_?” they both asked with the same confusion.

“I’m _leaving_ this house. This family.”

“ _Excuse me_?” her father growled, taking an assertive step forward, but she knew it was only a bark rather than bite, and refused to move.

“Catherine, what are you talking about?” her mother spoke up from behind, her tone carrying traces of anger, though better controlled than the hot headed man before her. “What do you mean you’re ‘leaving’?”

“Just what I said. I hate it here. I hate you two. I can’t stand it here.”

“And where do you think you’ll go? To that government thing or whatever?” the man asked haughtily, not believing her.

“Yes.”

“Catherine, wait—this is ridiculous. You don’t mean that! We can talk this out,” her mother frowned.

Her father glared, “It’s that whole Mission City business isn’t it? You’ve got the notion up there in your head that you’re better than—”

“Shut up!” she roared, and, to her surprise, he did. Even he if he meant to retort back, she didn’t give him the chance. “Every time! Every God damned time! You use that stupid sentence! I don’t have a fucking swelled head from that incident! I don’t think I’m better than you or anyone else! I don’t think I’ll have a free ride! _You_ think that! You never actually try to understand anything about me or how I think! Never! And I’m tired of it! I’m tired of hoping you will understand and tired of trying to be what you want. It’s just too damn hard and you can’t be satisfied! I’m never going to be perfect enough for you, and I’m not going to try for people who won’t accept me for who I am!

“I didn’t always think this way, you know. I really didn’t. Back when I was little—when I was _naïve_ and like every other kid—I wanted nothing more than to make you happy. I wanted to make you proud. It was why I never saw it. I knever saw how you were always trying to force me to be what _you_ wanted. I remember how you jabbed me with your finger when I was like eight just because I couldn’t throw the softball with a backwards spin. I was _eight_ fucking years old, Dad! And you _jabbed_ me hard enough to leave a bruise because I couldn’t do it even though I was trying! I wasn’t a pro baseball player—I was eight. Eight!

“And you, Mom! You and all your fucking make-up and boyfriend bullshit! I don’t want to be a girly girl! I don’t want to wear dresses or makeup or jewelry! I don’t want to go clothes shopping or shoe shopping or whatever-shopping! I don’t want to paint my nails! I’m not that kind of girl! I’m strong, I’m tough, I like boyish things, I like tough things, and I don’t like girly things! I’ve told you so many times, but you just can’t accept the fact! You just want to turn me into your precious little doll that acts like normal girls, but I’m not normal! I’m a tomboy and I don’t do those things! But you wouldn’t stop! You just wouldn’t stop!

“Worst of all though—you never _really_ supported me. Sure, you would give me money if I needed it and I have great living conditions, but you wouldn’t support me otherwise unless it was something you wanted. If I wanted to smoke you would have condemned me. If I wanted to be gay you would have thrown me out. If I wanted to be anything less than your expectations you’d only give me disappointment and rejection when you should have supported me! You should support me for who I am, but you don’t—you just keep trying to change me! You just pushed me away, and I don’t know when or where, but it’s made me hate you. Loathe you!

“And it doesn’t just have to do with me. I’ve watched you guys for a long time and you think you’re such great people and your friends think you’re so great, but you’re _disgusting_. You act so nice and kind outside of this house or around other people, but the minute they’re gone you start insulting them and nagging their way of life when you’d agree with them to their face! You’re such hypocrites! I don’t say that to mean I’m a saint—hell, I’m probably just as bad, but I at least keep it to myself and try to be honest with people about those things! At least I try! But you—you two don’t. I don’t even think you realize it, but you’re just awful. And I can’t stay with you anymore. Not anymore. You’re not real parents to me. You don’t love me. Not as a person. Maybe not even as a parent and child. And I can’t live in a place where my own parents can’t love me for who and what I am.”

She paused then, leaving the wide-eyed and speechless faces of the two adults in the pathway while she walked to the door. She hefted her things over her shoulders and turned to face them again. Their expression remained and she could see there was pain. She was glad for it. The guilt was gone, replaced with satisfaction at finally striking back at her captors. Yes, maybe she was being selfish for her actions and maybe her reasons weren’t good enough for some, but for her they were all she needed.

“I’m leaving now, and I’m not coming back. I’m going to be with people who actually care about me, and I will never think of you again. You should do the same. After all, I never was what you wanted. You should be happy I’m finally leaving. I don’t care either way,” she spoke again as she opened the door. “I would say good-bye, but you don’t even deserve that.”

Turning away, she shut the door. She didn’t look back— didn’t even think of them— as she stepped off the porch and walked down the path to the street. If they had shouted after her or opened the door or anything, she was both blind and deaf to it. They were no longer there and nothing they did would reach her. There was only the path ahead of her, leading her to the Autobots and those who would do for her all that those people wouldn’t. No more cage. No more rejection. No more unhappiness. No more disappointment. No more.

Sideswipe was kind enough to open his door for her, allowing her to chuck her bags into the passenger seat and take her place in the driver’s. The door closed behind her and as soon as her back hit the seat she let out the most relieved sigh she’d ever released in her life. Already she could feel all the rage leaving, with only a sense of happiness and freedom remaining. It made her smile, refusing to find any faults with her actions.

_“I’m guessing that went well?”_ the Autobot inquired, and she sighed with content again.

“Yep, considering I’m here and they’re still in there. Felt good, too, to finally get all that out.”

_“Right, well, I don’t understand any of it, but as long as you’re done we can get going.”_

She laughed, “I’ll explain it to you one day. Maybe. And what’s this? So eager to get back to that dirty place? I thought you wanted to get away.”

_“This place isn’t much better. The only difference is the roads are paved,”_ he replied, his engine rumbling to life. _“I prefer to go fast on that highway thing of yours.”_

“So I noticed when you were going forty over the speed limit. You’re lucky we didn’t get pulled over you know,” she snapped back and the radio snorted.

_“Not like any of your human officers could catch me.”_

She rubbed her brow, “That’s not the point—but who am I kidding? It’s _you_ I’m talking to here.”

_“Hey—what’s that supposed to mean?”_

“Oh nothing…” she hummed, looking out the window, only to see a figure rushing towards them, which made her instinctively slam on the brakes. “Watch out!”

Sideswipe screeched to a halt, and his bumper stopped just inches from the legs of the crazy young man in front of him. While the Autobot let off a string of curses, Catherine stared wide-eyed at the person, who’s pleading face she knew all too well. Ignoring Sideswipe’s calls, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out. The young man’s eyes followed her, and she could see the black lines underneath as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. He looked weary all together, too, and she sighed softly.

“Sam,” she said at almost a whisper and stepped around the door. He moved towards her to embrace, but he stopped at the last second and pulled back as if struck. His eyes moved from her hazel ones to the pavement, going back and forth a few time until he finally gained the courage to keep her gaze.

“Catherine… I… I’m so… I’m so sorry—I-I didn’t know…” he spoke weakly.

She rubbed her arm, eyes falling, “I know. It was kind of my fault. I never told you after all. And, to be honest, I was really upset when I said those things.”

“You were right, though. I… I’ve been so caught up in myself that I didn’t… I… I haven’t been a good friend. I haven’t been _your_ friend.”

She looked up again and saw the sincerity in his eyes. It made her heart break, and she felt the doubt sinking in once more. If there was anyone who could keep her here, it was Sam. Yes, she knew she had to give up on him— had to give up on those lingering feelings, but it was so hard. She had held onto them for two long years, and to suddenly give them up in just days? It almost seemed impossible, and standing there before him made it even harder. She had to stop this. She had to keep him from making her stay. It was for the best. He would be better off without her, and she would be better off without him. It was how it had to be.

He opened his mouth to say more, but Catherine beat him, “I’m leaving, Sam.”

He reared back as if struck again, this time harder, and stared at her wide-eyed.

“L-leaving? Where? _Why_?”

“I’m going to join the Autobots—be a liaison for them, y’know?” she smiled, but that did little to ease him. Rather, it made it worse as his shoulder slumped and the confusion set into his expression.

“But… why…?” he asked again slowly, unable to find any answers.

“Because I want to. Because I need to.”

“’Need to’?” he murmured, as if testing the words, trying to understand them. Then he did what she least expected—he stepped forward with a concerned anger is his eyes. “You ‘need to’? You need to what? Put yourself into danger? ‘Bee’s told me what they do—you want to go hunt _Decepticons_? You need to get yourself _killed_? I know I’ve been terrible to you and stupid and just so stupid, but you don’t need to go! We can fix things! I can fix things! You don’t need to go!”

At one time she would have been thrilled by the thought of him being so carrying; so determined to keep her safe, but now it only made her sad. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and embrace him, but they were too broken for that. She could only look up sadly at him, smothering his rage back into confusion once more.

“But I do, Sam. I do because I need to be saved from this— all of this,” she began, using her arm to gesture around her. “I had hoped you could and would be the one to do it, but you can’t. I know it and you know it, too. Well, you don’t quite yet. But you will. You will. The Autobots can save me, though.”

He shook his head, “No, Catherine—that’s… That’s…”

She hadn’t planned to ever tell him, but she had to break his hopes more. Even if they were hopes of fixing his mistakes, she had to break them. Breaking was the only way for them to mend, so she put her hand into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Sam stared, confused further, until it began to shift into Teletraan. At once his eyes went wide and he gasped and gaped as the little drone climbed over her hand and up her arm to her head where it chirped, gazing curiously at the young man.

“I didn’t say anything to you before, but I think you need to know now. I lied back at the base when I said nothing happened back in Mission City. Something did happen—and I think you know what it is, so I’ll put it simply: I’m the Allspark, Sam. It’s another reason I need to go—the Autobots need me, too.”

His mouth closed, his eyes fell, and he became silent. Her smile only saddened more, and not even Teletraan’s affectionate nuzzling could help. Still, it was for the best. That’s what she told herself, but it was hard to believe. She could still feel the yearning to be with him—to have what she had again, but even though Sam wanted to try to get it back, too, it wouldn’t be the same. It couldn’t be the same. Their break wasn’t one that could be mended back to what it was. She’d also gone too far now to stop. There was nowhere else for her to go, and she couldn’t keep Sam stuck forever. He had to let go, too.

It was time for her to leave, she knew. For both of them. If she stayed any longer the doubts might sink too deep and she might begin to feel regret and undo everything she’d worked so hard for. With Sam still looking away, she moved back behind Sideswipe’s door and was about to enter when Sam spoke up again.

“Wait—Catherine!” he called out, and she looked up to find his pleading, brown eyes growing wet. “I—we can… We can fix this… I can be a better friend again. I’ll hang out with you more, a-and we’ll play games like before, and… and…Just… just stay. _Please_. We can fix this. Can’t we?”

“…I don’t know, Sam,” was all she replied, and that was all it took for him to look away, defeated. His hands clenched as he bit back the tears, but she could see his shoulders shaking. She knew if she hadn’t made her choice, she would be shaking and on the verge of breaking down, too. There was no satisfaction in seeing him that way, either. Her anger for him had cooled and begun to mix with the sadness of the loss.

He looked up again, “What… What am I supposed to do?”

_Oh, Sam_ , she sighed silently, watching his heart nearly completely break. He was trying so desperately to hold on, and while she thanked him for that, she also pitied him. She pitied herself for wanting it, too, but also berated herself as she searched for the right words to say.

“Be happy,” she finally decided on, smiling sadly. “Be happy that I’m finally doing something for _me_ , and be happy for yourself. You’ve got a great life ahead of you, Sam, and now so do I. So be happy. For both of us, okay?”

He stared for a few seconds before nodding weekly, rubbing at his eyes, “O…Okay. Okay. Yeah. Okay… Okay.”

She thought about hugging him then. She thought about letting him know she would always be his friend. She wanted to tell him so many things that might cheer him up or give him hope, but neither her body not her lips would move to make them become reality. She wasn’t ready for that—ready to forgive him. Not yet. Instead, she kept on smiling sadly.

“Bye, Sam.”

She settled back into Sideswipe’s interior and was glad for the tinted windows as the young man remained where he stood and Sideswipe rolled by him. She didn’t dare look at his face, or even into the rear-view mirror to see his shrinking form still standing there, his back to her. She didn’t dare roll down the window to hear his sorrow as the last tie of their bond broke. It was for the best. It was what they both needed. Now they could both be happy.

At least, once the hurt stopped, and she knew it would. It always did, and, though the scars would remain, the pain would ease. Then it would fade as time passed and the new memories took hold, and they would find happiness. Yes, they would be happy. Even apart, they would be happy.

\----------------------------------------+

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------+

Catherine let out her millionth deep sigh as she fell back onto the grassy slope of one of the many hills on the Lennox’s ranch. Above her the countless stars shined down, brighter than usual thanks to the new moon. She marveled at them and the shapes they made, naming off Orion and the Big and Little Dipper easily. The rest she didn’t know so well, but it was enough to just stare. It was a good way to end a stressful, yet liberating day.

The drive back had felt so long and exhausting to where she could barely recall talking much at all with Sideswipe. She didn’t know if he understood what was going on or just realized she wasn’t going to be much conversation, but he had been quiet, too. He’d even gone the speed limit while she relaxed into the seat and rested for a moment. She couldn’t fall completely asleep—her thoughts had been too jumbled for that, but it helped ease the weariness.

Her welcome-back reception had done the rest, as Lennox and his wife warmly accepted her and already had dinner waiting. It was like a dream come true when she’d joined them, sitting next to little Annabelle who was giggling as she mashed her baby food around. She couldn’t remember having a dinner so wonderful and full of laughter, and not just the baby’s. She couldn’t remember talking about herself so much, either, but she had whenever they’d ask. They were so kind, too, and they thought her being interested in boyish things wonderful and good—how she had longed to hear such things! She supposed it helped that Sarah had been like that in her younger years and was still a little that way now, especially since she had to take care of the ranch mostly by herself, although Lennox’s cousin had been coming around.

She’d unpacked some after that, but it was abandoned in favor of taking a walk out to the hill she was on now, star gazing. There was just something about looking up at them and imagining what was out there—all the new things and creatures and infinite freedom of thought. She already knew one thing that was out there, as two of them were out strolling about somewhere, but there just had to be more. Maybe one day she would know, but she was content there and then to just imagine it for herself. Of course, one of the “things” out there didn’t help as the sound of his turning gears reached her ears.

She looked up to find Sideswipe’s darkened form rolling towards her, his blue optics bright in the darkness. If she didn’t know them or could sense their presence with her powers, she might have been a little frightened. She wasn’t, though, and waited as he sat down beside her as had become custom in the past few days. She didn’t honestly know why he joined her—she didn’t think he found the stars as exciting—but she never bothered to ask, and decided to simply figure he didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

“Hey,” she called out, and was given a grunt in return. She raised a brow, having expected some snarky comment, but didn’t press the notion. He’d probably nag at her if she did. He was so much like a teenager sometimes that she wanted to laugh, but she knew better and held it back.

He made a sound, as if meaning to speak, and she looked up him, but his optics were still out on the land. She could sense a confrontation within him, like he was trying to understand something impossible to understand. She waited calmly as he formed his words, though he still did not meet her gaze.

“Why… How… How could you just leave them like that?” he asked finally, and continued on when he tuned his optics on her. “Your creators and that male—were they not your family?”

A sad smile she had come to know very well as of late appeared on her face as she sat up and looked out to the horizon.

“My ‘creators’ weren’t any family to me. Sam? Yeah, he was like family—hell, he was more than that, but some things happened, and, well,” she paused to sigh, “sometimes we have to let things like family go.”

“You would abandon them so easily? For such little things?”

“No—not for little things. Look… I don’t expect you to understand, and I know the importance of things will be different for you, but what happened with me and Sam and my ‘creators’ wasn’t a ‘little thing’. It was big, and leaving them was the best thing for everybody.”

He growled with frustration, “It’s not _right_.”

“Maybe,” she said after a few seconds, shrugging. “Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was selfish of me, but who’s to say it was? If you want to hate me for what I’ve done, then I’m okay with that. I probably deserve it, but I did what I thought was best—what I thought was right.”

Sideswipe became silent, the emotions within him becoming muddled and indeterminable to her. That was fine, though, and she stopped letting the sensations come. She expected him to leave, but, oddly, he stayed. She didn’t really know what to make of it, so she remained silent, too. She didn’t know how long it lasted, but eventually he shifted and she looked up to see he was staring out at the landscape again, his expression no longer frustrated.

“I don’t hate you,” he rumbled. “I just find you extremely annoying.”

She blinked slowly for a moment, and then laughed.

“I can live with that.”

\----------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _Okay, so I want to make a point on the parents again: They do NOT abuse her in any way (despite what's said), and there are in fact REASONS for her reaction. They do not show up for a while, but they DO exist. I can assure you of that. They might be a little... odd, but they work. So yeah, not abusive parents, but bad people... something like that. Teenager angst and stuff._

_So. Kinda short, but it gets the job done. She's disavowed the parents, let Sam go, and had a cute little bonding moment with Sideswipe at the end. All in a day's work for an American, All-spark-infused teenager! Now we just have to do some more waiting and then its off to NEST! And then a lot more in-between stuff for the movies. :D Two years leaves room for so many things to do~ So do expect time skips._

_Also... sooo are people feeling sad for Sam now? 'Cause, I mean, the poor kid's trying now. And it wasn't_ completely _his fault. A lot of it was, but not all of it. I feel for you, bro. -does the chest fist bump thing-_


	18. Somewhere I Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a small time skip. It's about a week and a half. Just so people don't get confused.
> 
> Song -- Linkin Park - Somewhere I Belong

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine was beginning to regret having used her powers to bring her phone to life.

With a sigh, she turned away from the wall-side of her bed and found the blue optics of Teletraan staring at her with determination while its speakers wailed an ungodly sound that apparently passed for an alarm. Adding fuel to the fire, the little bugger was flashing the time on its chest-screen, which was at an even more ungodly hour of five in the morning. Of course, she couldn’t really be mad at the little guy. For one, he was adorable and would shut down the alarm as soon as she looked at him, and two, she had told him to do this for the rest of her stay at the Lennox’s. He was a good little drone thing.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up, I’m up,” she grumbled, rolling out of bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She messaged her neck next and shoulders, too, trying to loosen up the sore muscles. They weren’t as bad as they had been after yesterday, thankfully, and she knew they would feel better once she was done with today, too. She just had to get moving into the routine. Luckily for her, the laziness had no chance of acting up with her little alarm clock ready to blare at her if she even so much as looked back towards the soft, comfy mattress.

With another sigh she stood up and began her morning preparations, Teletraan scurrying after her. Like she had for the past week and a few days, she slipped on her workout clothes and shoes and tied her hair back, putting it out of the way. She splashed her face a few times to help wake up before setting Teletraan into her short’s pocket and heading downstairs where Lennox would already be waiting. She knew Sarah and Annabelle were still asleep so she made sure to creep down the steps so as to not wake them, and then carefully close the back door. As always, her “commander”—she wasn’t sure if she could get used to calling him that—stood with his hands on his hips, already fitted in his NEST workout gear. He gestured with his head for her to follow, and they were off.

The jog was a lot longer now, ranging at about ten miles. The first six were a breeze after a full week of running the blasted trails, but the last four always strained her, and it didn’t help Lennox made her increase her pace at that time. She was getting better, though. Or, at least, that’s what she figured when she found she could keep up with Lennox better and better each day. Granted, he could have been taking pity on her too, but she preferred to think the former. If there was any good part, it was that their land had a great jogging view and the sun didn’t come up until after they were done. The little things just made it all the less tiring.

“Sore today?” he asked her after they had finished and she was holding her hands up on her head to help the breathing.

“A little,” she replied and lowered her arms now that she was almost back to normal. “But it’s fine. It’ll be gone by this evening.”

“Good. Now get going on the pushups and crunches while I get the horses ready,” he ordered and spun towards the barn. She held in her sigh, remembering his warning although her joining NEST was official now, and lowered to the ground. The post-jogging exercises were her least favorite part, especially since he’d increased their amount after she had come to stay here. All she had to say was that her arms and stomach had better be incredibly toned after all of it or she would be pissed. And their horses better be incredibly happy because she was grooming and cleaning them even with her sore arms and a burning stomach.

_I swear to God if there are horses on the island I am going to go Godfather on a certain someone’s ass!_ She grumbled as she finished up the last of her pushups and went into crunches. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the horses—Lennox was just being a turd for making her do the work. He knew very well it was his job, and even his wife had told him it was his job, but he was being a sneaky bastard and making _her_ do it while Sarah was asleep. She hadn’t said anything namely because he had oh so slyly mentioned her “membership” to NEST. While she knew he wouldn’t just suddenly take it back, he could make it as awful as he wanted being the Commander. While he was a kind man, she wouldn’t put it past him to take it up. He could be a real turd sometimes.

"He’s going to be the perfect dad for Annie,” she chuckled aloud after her last crunch and stood to brush off the dirt. She wasn't lying either; Lennox had already taken up the fatherly role for her, and she couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Still, there was a limit to how much of a jerk she wanted in a father, and Lennox was always precariously close to crossing over that line.

“So who’s up first today?” she called out to her “foster-father” as she stepped into the barn not far off from the house. Already the brown-haired man had everything out, with only the horse missing, and her answer came soon after in the form of a black-coated beauty.

“’Old Blacky, that’s who,” Lennox replied, patting the horse on the neck before hooking him up to the ropes on the walls. “You’ll take out Rocky-Road, then Captain Pepper, Al, and Wilson.”

“While you go and play with your ‘adult toys’, right?” she smirked, letting the black gelding scent her hand and then rub his nose affectionately. She knew all them now, and they had become accustomed to her, too. They were kind of like the little rascals she used to have as pets, only much bigger and pickier. Blacky especially, being the eldest and thus the most prestigious and deserving of special needs.

Lennox gave her a look, “You won’t let that go, will you?”

“Nope. And I cannot wait for the day I tell Annie. She will _destroy_ you.”

“Yeah, you’re not going to be allowed near the baby anymore.”

She smirked, “Except you have no say in that matter. Sarah won’t allow it. Even if you try to send me away to NEST forever she’ll make you bring me back with you on vacation time.”

Will Lennox sighed in defeat, recalling very well the dinner conversation where his wife had demanded in a not-so-subtle way that Catherine was not to never return again and have fun with Annabelle or Mrs. Lennox herself. The redhead in question was delighted, and not only because her tormentor was being put in his place, but because the woman had said so with love and made her feel like she was part of their family. Even little Annabelle seemed to have taken a liking to her, if only because she kept her company—or entertained her depending on how one looked at it—when both parents needed a break. All in all, it was a godsend and Catherine loved every bit of it. The workout not quite so much, although she did enjoy it to some extent. It gave her good bonding time with Lennox, after all.

“Anyways, just hurry and finish, then wash up and come inside. Sarah will have breakfast ready as usual and then Ironhide will drive you out to the shooting range,” he responded, patting Blacky on the neck one final time before stepping out of the barn and rounding the corner, taking him out of sight. Catherine watched until he was gone and then turned back to the large quarter horse, which stared at her expectantly and flicked his ears and tails as a sign of being on the verge of impatience.

“Looks like we both got a good thing here, huh?” she smiled, stroking his nose again. “And I got even more coming my way. Now, let’s get on to your pampering, shall we?” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re leaning forward too much,” Ironhide’s voice boomed through her earplugs, and she lowered her weapon to look up at him. “Tilt back by a few degrees and your aim won’t be off.”

She nodded, “Got it. Need to stop doing that…”

Catherine set her legs firmly, keeping her back straight, and then raised the gun’s scope to her eyelevel. With the butt resting comfortable and securely against her padded shoulder, she called for the release, and the two pigeons fired. She went for the left one first, tracking and then bursting it apart with a single shot, and then followed after the other to do the same in mere seconds. Success was in the bag; she lowered her weapon, the round over, and turned toward the towering, black Autobot for her evaluation.

“Forty out of fifty—better than yesterday,” he hummed, but she could sense he wasn’t completely pleased. She shared the feeling, having hoped to reach fifty by now, but she'd continued to have some small issues with keeping everything just right. Yesterday it had been her trigger finger being too hasty, and now it was her position. She supposed the only good news was that the enemy was not the size of a clay pigeon. Granted, she didn’t actually plan on fighting a Decepticon if she could help it—the thought just didn’t sit right in her stomach. It was more instinct than anything else, but she trusted her instincts for the most part and so went with it. However, she wasn’t going to let herself be defenseless. If she wasn’t going to kill them, she would at least keep them away from her long enough to get away.

“Is the gun maybe too big for me? It doesn’t really feel like it, but maybe, and that can be a problem,” she hummed, looking over the black-colored weapon in her hands.

“The weapon belongs to Lennox, so it is possible. I’m sure he’ll provide a more suitable one once we arrive at the base.”

“That’d be good,” the redhead nodded as she walked over to the table set up under the roofed shed. “By the way—when are we finally going to leave? It’s already been almost two weeks now, and Lennox said ‘soon’.”

“Prime has said there are still minor things to be finished, but we should be able to leave within another one of your Earth weeks.”

“I just hope you’re right… Anyways, where’s Sideswipe? It’s time for the paintball session,” she frowned, not spotting the silver Autobot anywhere. He was usually on time for the second part of weapons practice. Although it involved her playing tag with him in an attempt to paint his armor in a lovely neon pink, he enjoyed it. She knew it was because he was so damned good at dodging despite his size, and because he loved taunting her about it. Jerk.

“I’m here, I’m here,” the ‘jerk’s’ voice rang up from behind the shed and a few seconds later his wheeled feet appeared. “Commander Lennox needed some help.”

“Oh, well, that’s cool then. Anyways—hurry up and get on out there so we can get started. We need you to look pretty for Annabelle tonight,” the redhead grinned, and Sideswipe smirked challengingly.

“Lucky for me her favorite color is silver then,” he purred back and started rolling out into the field before Catherine could reply. The redhead frowned, beaten, and snatched up the second weapon—an NEST-style paintball gun—and then some extra ammo, which she slid into their designated pocket on her vest. Before she could venture after, Ironhide stepped closer, both the sight of his gigantic foot and the vibration of his step catching her attention.

“Teletraan says good luck and that I’m needed. Sideswipe will bring you back this time,” he stated, and, after she nodded back, he transformed and took off. She, meanwhile, silently thanked her little phone back at the house—the little guy’s audio receptors didn’t like the sound of gunfire all that much—and sauntered out down to the field. ‘Obstacle Course’ was a better term for it, as the spot was crowded with old buildings from where the original barn and farm-house had been. Lennox told her they built the present main house once the land was expanded because this one was too far from the main road. However, it served as a good place to relax or hold parties so it was never taken down. Now it was used for training, as the buildings were good cover to hide limber Autobots not wanting to get plastered with pink paint, and simulated actual battles better than trees.

She couldn’t see the Autobot, and hadn’t really watched where he’d gone, but that’s where her powers came in handy. She once thought maybe it was cheating, but the Autobots could detect the enemy in a somewhat similar way, so she was more than happy to use her “sensor”—as she put it—to pick up on Sideswipe’s emotions and track him down. He hadn’t figured out how she did it either, and she didn’t think he knew how to shut off his emotions completely, so it was a wonderful asset for discovering Autobots hiding behind the old horse barn.

It was a shame he had the same edge on her; able to detect her approach as she tried to silently creep into one of the stalls and fire at him through the window. He laughed while he dodged, and she grumbled under her breathe as she chased after. He also had the edge in speed, even over the other Autobots, and was happy to lazily sway back and forth going _backwards_ from her mockingly.

_Screw waiting_ , she growled and raised her weapon up as she ran. She fired, but missed even though the Autobot hadn’t quite expected it. He didn’t expect the next shot either, and this time she surprised even herself by timing it just right so that when he moved she followed and fired to the spot where he was going to be. He let out a yelp of surprise as pink paint splattered all across his shoulder. He stared with disbelief, mouth agape, and then glared at Catherine, who made a victorious fist pump and stuck out her tongue.

“Last shot you’ll get!” he called out and sped off faster than ever. Her fist pump died instantly and she sighed, shoulders sagging. She’d already done her jogging for the day—she didn’t need another ten miles! The bastard wasn’t going to let up, though; especially not after he’d been so cocky and his pride was harmed now. There was no point in sitting still, though. He was probably hiding somewhere and wouldn’t let her get near ever again. It was going to be a miserable hour, but it was only an hour. After that she would finally be done with her physical exercises and could go back inside. From there it would be liaison lessons with help from Sarah and Lennox. That was a little tedious, but at least not as tiring nor as aggravating as the physical training.

She cursed aloud when her next round of fire missed completely, the Autobot swerving out of the way and toward a new hiding spot. Well, she at least had the one shot, which was pretty good considering she rarely ever hit him dead on or at all. Now he was being serious, though, which meant her job was all the harder. At least it was fun, in a way, which helped her hour of tag-and-missed-shots pass by fast enough so that she didn’t need to complain about how annoying it was getting.

She was definitely tired as the hour finished up, and was more than happy to return her gun to the shed and plop down into one of the fold-out chairs they had set up there. She could not wait to get back to the house and shower and get into some normal clothes that didn’t involve working out. All she needed was for her ride to be ready, and luckily for her, he was up on the hill with her. She waited for a few more moments before pushing herself up, closing up the shed, and walking over to his wheeled feet.

“Alright, let’s head back. I’m beat,” she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. She looked up at him, taking note of the miniscule splotches of paint scattered on the edge of armor, but only taking pride in the direct hit she’d gotten on his shoulder.

“Fine by me. Need to get this slagging paint off anyways,” he grumbled before transforming into his vehicular form. She held back a snicker, but not her smile as she spotted the pink stain was on the driver’s side door—bright and perfectly visible for all to see. Now she was definitely proud of her shot. Sideswipe was not amused, and showed it by slamming the door shut behind her a little too quickly and bumping her side.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. It’ll come off,” she scoffed at his wheel as he began the short drive back.

“Why do I have to be the target anyways? Ironhide would do just as fine!”

“Because he said so and you have to do what he says?” she offered, and his engine rumbled unhappily. She raised a brow, smiling playfully. “What? You getting too scared to fight me now after one little direct hit? I thought you said were the ‘best’! I guess I heard wrong.”

“Please. _Me_ scared of _you_? I could just be using my time for better things.”

“Like getting your ‘aft’ handed to you by Ironhide? I’m sure he’ be happy to take up that offer. Besides, I don’t need a pansy for a training partner,” she replied, folding her arms in a haughty manner.

“’Pansy’ am I? Is that why you only got one direct hit?”

“It’s called being nice.”

“Oh, is that so? Well do me a favor and don’t hold back so I can show you just how bad you really are.”

“Oh, I’m ‘bad’ alright. Bad- _ass_.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Kitty Cat,” he purred, and she could sense his smirk as she scowled.

“Don’t call me that! It’s Catherine to you, mister!” she barked, jabbing a finger at his radio.

“Yeah, maybe if you can actually win against me, but seeing as that’s _never_ going to happen,” he replied, trailing off in a way that she didn’t like. Seconds later his radio came to life playing the “kitty cat” song, only it was repeating “I’m a kitty cat” over and over. Catherine let out a wail as she attempted to shut off the radio, but the silver Autobot was not to be thwarted. The redhead eventually gave up and leaned back into the seat with her arms folded and eye glowering.

“I hate you,” she growled. Sideswipe only laughed, and she was glad they would be home in about a minute or so. Not that she was confident she could stand listening to the song for that long, but it would be the silver mech’s fault if she assaulted him. Jerk would get what was coming to him.

Luckily for both parties, it took less than the expected time to come up to the house, so Catherine was spared too much annoyance and Sideswipe was spared a damaged interior. He played smart, too, and let her out as soon as he pulled to a stop and shut off his radio while she stalked away.

“Have fun with the boring stuff,” he called out, still with a tease in his voice.

She turned, flipping him the bird, “I hope the pink stains.”

He’d learned what the gesture—and many others— meant, and so laughed when she spun around to go back inside. She kept her grumblings to herself in the event Annabelle was nearby, wide awake, and susceptible to learning words she shouldn’t. Fortunately, Sarah and Lennox weren’t in sight, so she moseyed on upstairs to take that shower she was dying to have. She was all too happy to be rid of the dirty clothes, and let the hot water soothe her aching muscles and clean the sweat off. It was also wonderful to finally put on some old shorts and a plain T-shirt rather than her under-armor workout gear, which had become like a second skin these days. There was Teletraan, too, whom was very happy that she was back and able to give him attention.

“Hey little guy,” she cooed as she picked him up and let him settle onto her shoulder. As always, he nuzzled her affectionately and made his “purr-like” sound made of odd clicks. He was like some kind of cat or something, and he was just the cutest thing for it. “You do okay without me? Didn’t get into any trouble did you?”

Teletraan chirped and shook his head, showing off an innocent smiley face on his screen. Of course, she already knew he wasn’t a trouble maker. She had made sure he knew not to cause any, and the little guy had listened to her very well. He always seemed rather intent on not disappointing her, doing everything she said almost exactly, and sulking when he got anything wrong. It was like he was a little kid, and sometimes the thought bothered her—if he was acting like a kid to her and _only_ her… did that make her his mom? Sure, she brought it to life, but she couldn’t really think of herself as its mother. It just felt weird.

“Good boy. Any messages or updates?”

Again Teletraan shook his head. Besides having someone other than the computer to play Scrabble, the little drone was good for updating her on any of her websites since he could access the Internet with ease, and she never missed a message with him around. Not to mention he could send messages to the other Autobots through that communication link channel of theirs—she still wasn’t sure on how it worked exactly—and let them know something she or anyone else wanted to say when far away. It was pretty cool and made things a lot more convenient.

“Let’s get down to liaison school then. I want to get done with today before dinner this time,” Catherine smiled, stroking the little phone-drone’s head affectionately. It chirped with delight and let her set him into her pocket where it would stay resting—or that’s what she figured—until she had time for him again. She then made her way back downstairs where she found Lennox already in the study across the hallway with her books and papers already out. Annabelle was crying in the baby room, and Catherine had a feeling Sarah was in there and would be for a while. She could tell Lennox shared a similar sentiment with the pained grimace that appeared on his face at the same time his baby’s wails increased in volume. Catherine spared him any more agony by closing the doors and shutting out most of the noise.

“Geez… What’s Annie crying about this time? She was fine this morning.”

Lennox ran a hand through his hair, “Ugh. I have _no_ idea. Sarah said maybe it’s gas, but I don’t know. Not the baby expert over here.”

“Well, that just means you get to be my teacher, right? Granted, that might not be much better,” she grinned, taking her spot in the chair next to him.

“Oh, no. It’s definitely better. You don’t cry every five seconds. The worst is that this stuff is so damned complicated I’m not sure I can actually help.”

“Just be glad you don’t have to learn it. It makes me wish I had chosen to be a soldier instead,” she frowned, sticking out her tongue for emphasis as she picked up one of the thick stacks of paper of her topic. “I mean, just look at this! All about one thing, too. How do any countries manage to have even _one_ liaison?”

“Beats me. I’m just a Commander.”

She gave him a look, “Yeah, thanks, _Commander_. Well, it’s what I gotta do, and I’ll have more time and better experience gain at NEST I’m sure. By the way—how’d you guys manage to get the President and Senate to accept my application, anyways? That’s how they get chosen, I’m pretty sure. I think.”

“Well,” he began, rubbing the back of his head, “that’s actually an ambassador you’re talking about. You’re just a liaison, so it’s different. You’re also the _Autobot’s_ liaison, not the United States, and, frankly, the Autobots are aliens so I think different policies might apply.”

“Huh. I guess that makes things easier then,” she hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Her musing was interrupted, however, as Lennox dropped a small booklet in front of her.

“Here’s the next chapter of psychology. You’re going to have a test on Friday so get studying while I compile some quizzes.”

Catherine stared at the booklet for a few seconds before sighing and picking it up. She once thought High School was difficult, but this teaching-with-Lennox made it look like pre-school. She’d already had to take three exams to test her retaining skills for the information that wasn’t just on Psychology, but Business and Communications and all kinds of subjects, and then the two adults would constantly put her into situations requiring her to use her skills. That had gone horrible the first week without knowing anything at all about the job, and this week wasn’t all that much better. The many quizzes everyday were murder, too, but it was all part of what she had to do. If she wanted to stay as a liaison and with the Autobot she needed to know it, and this was a good way although it was torturous. Of course, that was school, right?

“Am I going to have to have the same schedule at NEST?” she asked half-way through a page, sparing her foster-father a glance. “Y’know, waking up at 5, workout, shooting practice, and then liaison lessons?”

Lennox leaned back, “You’ll wake up at the same time, but I think we’ll spread out what days you train with what. Probably this stuff for four days, physical for three.”

“Who’s going to teach me, by the way? Like, are you going to do the physical training and someone else do the other stuff?”

“I plan to keep you in my group so you’ll be with me, Epps, and the other guys you met and talked to after Mission City. I figured it would be better if you were with people who knew you, and none of them remember your age so it works out fine. So far, I’m thinking the liaison training will be with the Autobots. Ironhide said Prime and Jazz already have everything you need to know downloaded and plan to teach you everything you need to know about them, too. However, the General will have the final call, so you might end up with an actual person instead.”

“Huh. That sounds pretty nice, actually.”

“And if you want to make it happen, you better keep studying,” he hummed, gesturing at her booklet, now close to being set down on the table. She pouted, but brought the material back up. Lennox kept his eyes on her, making sure to point at the booklet whenever she tried to look away. She would go back quickly, as if it were definitely _not_ an attempt to be lazy about her studies and not wanting to figure out the many terms of psychology. Her attempts were only lessened when Sarah finally came in, Annabelle apparently appeased, and took up keeping an eye on her, too. She silently cursed their good parenting skills, and also thanked them for it. Although it was keeping her doing something boring, she knew it was because they cared and wanted her to do well and, frankly, it was a fun game to play.

When it came time for the quizzes the fun died down some, as both foster-parents were brutal when it came to asking questions. Oh, it would start out easy, but as the questions went by they only got harder and harder until she was wondering what the hell they’d even said. They liked to pull tricks on her, too, and Sarah was a master at that. It made Catherine wonder if she really was a teacher for elementary school kids, because she could outwit any college student. Lennox did his fair share, too, but both of them knew his wife was the one who was most wicked.

Thankfully, she was able to get through it with her mind intact and passed most of the quizzes according to her teachers. There were still many flaws, but nothing another ten reads through her booklet couldn’t solve, and she would have plenty of time at NEST so she wasn’t too worried. Besides, her stomach was hungry and it was time for dinner, meaning any lessons were put in the back of her mind in favor of the hamburgers that were to be served for dinner.

“Alright, you stay here and finish up reviewing with Sarah and I’ll get the grill going,” Will grinned after their meal orders were given, and left the two women alone. While the redhead read through her review, the blonde-haired woman shuffled together all the papers into neat piles and made sure to set tomorrow’s on top.

“You’re doing a good job,” Sarah smiled, pulling Catherine from her review.

“Oh! Thanks. It’s actually hard to remember everything, especially when you’re the one testing me.”

The woman laughed, “Yes, well, seeing as you’re determined to go through with this, I’m going to make sure you make it all the way. It was the same for Will when he said he was going to join the army. I made sure he got his workout here on the ranch.”

“Thanks again for all that. And I’m sorry if it makes you upset,” the redhead replied softly, but the blonde-haired woman waved her off.

“Oh, I was at first, but Will told me what you said to him—you may be sixteen, but you’re capable of deciding things for yourself. You’re not a little girl anymore, and, well, I’m not your real mother so I can’t ground you for life.”

“Apparently you can make me wish I hadn’t taken up this job, though, right?” Catherine chuckled, and Sarah grinned back slyly.

“Now what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?”

“But I thought you weren’t my mother?”

“I’m not your _real_ mother, but you are underage and you live under my house, under my care. That automatically makes you my foster-child until you become an adult.”

Catherine’s smiled as the woman finished tidying up the papers and stood up. She said nothing as she moved around towards the door. The redhead kept her smile though, feeling what she knew was the kind of love a child should have for their parent. It was a warm, tender feeling; one which filled her with happiness and made her feel wanted.

“Thanks,” she said just as the blonde-haired woman opened the door. Sarah turned to look back at her and smiled back softly. Then she was gone to either help her husband or tend to Annabelle. Catherine returned to her review, still smiling, and it was suddenly much easier to read through it.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, well. Still have the balls to come and join me tonight,” Catherine snorted as the blue glow of Sideswipe’s optics blocked her view of the stars.

“Who said I came to join you? Our spots just happen to be right next to each other. You humans can be so arrogant,” he snorted back and set himself down beside her. It was a clever comeback, but she wasn’t fooled. Of course, she expected him to come anyways. They always went out to watch the stars at night before heading to bed. She wasn’t really sure how it started, but he just kind of kept coming every night and she’d grown to expect it. Not that she minded; she liked having someone to talk to while looking up at the stars even if that someone was a jerk at times.

“I see you managed to get the paint off,” she hummed. “Which is a shame, really. Annabelle would have loved to see you colored hot, neon pink and anyone on the roads would be a lot happier… until they crashed from laughing so hard.”

"Yes, well, you know how I love to torment and disappoint people,” he replied back haughtily.

“You never fail me.”

“That’s because I never lose.”

She looked up at him, but he was still watching the sky, “You know what? I’m not going to get onto that one.”

He knew what she meant, and she suspected that was why he didn’t say anything back. That or he figured he’d won and didn’t need to say anything at all. Whatever the reason, they settled into the routine silence that accompanied them for a few minutes before one of them decided on something else to talk about. Sometimes it was some snarky comment or jibe at one another, but they had managed to talk about actual, real things and had genuine conversations. He acted older then, but he always made sure to get some immature, witty comment in just to irk her. She was fine with it to be honest. She would never admit it, but she enjoyed every moment. It reminded her a lot of times she used to have—times she dearly missed. Maybe it was selfish or silly or cruel or whatever anyone might want to call it, but she wanted it, so she was going to keep it as long as she could, however she could.

“Hey, Sideswipe,” she called out, and the silver Autobot finally looked down at her. “Do…Do you have family?”

Sideswipe looked away silently, and she sensed a strange mixture of emotions come from him. It made her regret her asking as she caught onto the sorrow swirling in it, but then it suddenly settled and he looked back at her.

“A brother. My twin, Sunstreaker.”

“Oh… Is he…”

“Dead? I don’t know. He might be out there, though. Others have received the message, so maybe he’ll get it, too,” he replied somberly, optics gazing out among the stars, searching.

Catherine followed his gaze, although she wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find.

“He probably will. I mean, if he’s anything like you then he’ll make it. You always say how you’re too stubborn to die, right?”

Sideswipe chuckled, looking down, “Yeah. He’s stubborn like me.”

The silence dawned again, and it was thicker than before, mixed with guilt and awkwardness. Catherine let her eyes wander up to the stars, though she stole glances at Sideswipe whenever she felt a fluctuation in his emotions. They were muddled, which had become common these days, and she couldn’t always make much of it. He was generally good at controlling it and clearing it away, but tonight she had a feeling it would last for a while. Her question would make it so, and for that she was sorry. She only became more remorseful as the silence continued, and, after what felt forever, she decided she needed to maybe apologize.

Sideswipe beat her to it as he suddenly spoke up, “Hey.”

She leaned up as he looked down at her and tilted her head curiously.

“Do you… make things like that drone a lot? Like, is it easy?”

“Well, Teletraan was easy to make, but that’s because he didn’t need a lot of energy. Bigger things need more, and there is a limit to how much I can take,” she replied, turning up her palms to stare down at them.

“So can you make a Cybertronian like the original Allspark?”

She shook her head, “Or, well, I don’t _think_ I can. I don’t really know how I got Jazz to come back to life, and I can’t or don’t know how to make a real spark. I can heal very well, though.”

“Oh,” was his only reply, and there was a sense of disappointment. Again, silence, but Catherine wasn’t going to let it last for much longer as she realized she would have time to speak now.

“Hey, um,” she began, rubbing the back of her head. “Sorry, by the way. About the whole brother thing, I mean. I, uh, didn’t mean to—“

“It’s fine. I know you didn’t. And sorry about asking about the Allspark, too, I guess. I was just curious.”

“It’s fine. I guess don’t worry about it then? For both of us?”

“Sure. Let’s just talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

He hummed, “I guess… explain the whole ‘Twilight’ obsession thing to me?”

“Want to have your CPU explode?” she grinned.

“Challenge accepted?” he grinned back, although not very confidently.

“Let’s do this.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _, yeah I realized the Twilight movie_ _(and the huge surge in popularity) happened AFTER the first TF movie, but, uh... I figured I could let that slide. Aherm. Anyways~ That's chapter 17, and next chapter we finally head to Diego Garcia where things will speed up just a little, slow down, and then jump ahead again 8D Like I've been saying, I've got two years to cover~_

_So I think it's obvious what the Lennox's role are from now on :) I thought it suited them just fine, and I do believe Catherine is fitting in just nicely~ She's pulling The GodFather threats after all! Oh, and I don't really know all that much about what is required for a liaison, so I kind of guessed... From what I did get, I figured they needed people skills (psychology), government, and business, but not sure what else other than main course subjects (math/English/etc.)_

_And I guess that's about it. I don't have too much to say here. :3_


	19. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes - Home. I don't, uh, think the lyrics really match, but, uh, maybe a... little? Kind of. Maybe not? THE TITLE WORKS SO THERE WE GO. It's a silly song.

\----------------------------------------+

One week later and it was time to go.

Catherine wouldn’t admit it, but she was nervous. She really shouldn’t have been—Lennox had been training her well, and so had his wife—but she was. Yes, she could keep up with the exercises and was doing well enough in her liaison lessons, but could she really keep up with actual soldiers who had been fighting and training much longer than she had? The anxiety was mounting, and although it wasn’t going to keep her from going, it did make the heat of unease well up in her stomach and tie knots into it.

Sarah didn’t make it any easier either, being unusually silent and ignoring of the redhead during breakfast. If she did speak, the comments were short and sometimes sharp. If Catherine hadn’t known any better, she might have been hurt, but she could see in the blonde woman was just upset and the attitude was just a way of keeping her emotions in check. The redhead went along with it, not saying anything back besides the bare minimum needed, and continued to go about her day preparing.

She didn’t have to exercise, which was wonderful, so she had plenty of time to pack everything Lennox said she could bring. It wasn’t much—namely just her workout clothes, a few civilian clothes, her more “professional” clothes which Sarah had bought for her, and then she was allowed her laptop and music. The rest of her things she was to keep in her room at the house, which was to be another reason for her to come back during vacation time. She was going to bring Teletraan as well, but that was a given. Ratchet wanted to see him, too, according to what Ironhide told her. When she’d finally opened up her messaging system last night she’d found the docbot had left her similar messages. There were some from Jazz and even Bumblebee, as well, but she decided she would answer them when she got to NEST.

There were a few other messages, like those from her parents. Teletraan had shown he’d received calls, but hadn’t answered them just as she’d asked. The messaged were deleted almost right away. Whatever was in them—even if it was an apology—she didn’t want to hear it. She also noticed a lack of messages from a certain someone, but she quickly shook the name from her head.

That name was better off remaining in the darkest and farthest reaches of her mind.

Once she had finished and brought everything down, Lennox called her out to help pack the guns and some of the NEST gear they would be taking with them. The bulk of it was Lennox’s, as hers was going to be at the actual base, but some of it was old armor of his that managed to fit so it automatically became hers. Ironhide was to be their driver and cargo carrier, but that wouldn’t be until they’d finally said their good-byes to Sarah and Annabelle.

It was a bittersweet parting, particularly with Lennox and Sarah. Catherine stood off to the side, watching as the man touched his wife’s arm gently and spoke in soft whispers that she couldn’t make out. The two smiled sadly, but sincerely, and though Sarah’s eyes watered, she didn’t breakdown as he kissed her on the lips and then held her tight. They stayed like that for a good long while, neither really wanting to let go, but in the end it was his wife who pushed away first, motioning for him to get going. He grinned with a touch of humor before kissing her once more and then stepping over to his baby girl, lifting her up, kissing her on the forehead, and telling her he’d be back before she knew it and that he’d bring Catherine and Ironhide with him. The redhead couldn’t help but smile and feel her own eyes tearing up a little.

Then it was her turn and she walked up to Sarah who looked at her, arms on her hips, in that motherly kind of way that made it seem like she was wondering what to do with the redhead. Catherine wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman suddenly asked that, but she ended up embracing her tightly, kissing her forehead, wishing her good luck, to call, and to come back whenever she wanted. She would always be welcomed here, and if she ever needed her husband to be put in his place the redhead just had to call and there wouldn’t be any more problems. Catherine laughed at that, and thanked her, saying she would, and that she would be careful. She picked up Annabelle next, whom giggled and tried to grab at her ponytail, which had become a favored from of play among them. She would miss the little girl and told her so, and asked her not give her mother any trouble—she should save it her for her meanie of a father. The baby just giggled, and then squealed with delight when their noses became pressed together.

Catherine then moved over to where Lennox stood with a waiting Sideswipe—already transformed and ready to go—and both watched as Ironhide crouched low beside Sarah whom had taken Annabelle in her arms. The giant gazed fondly down at the baby and held out his finger to her, which was grasped playfully at. A faint smile appeared on his lips as he bade good-bye to the woman, who in turn asked him to keep both the redhead and her husband safe. He nodded, giving his word, and then moved away to transform. He rolled up next to Lennox and Catherine, whom chucked their belongings into his truck bed, and then opened his doors for them. The two paused to wave once more at the blonde-haired woman before settling into their seats.

Then they were on their way, and while for Lennox it was just another long, temporary leave, for Catherine it was leaving a world that had abandoned her once and also the first steps into a new one where an unknown future awaited. Normally it would have frightened her to tread so carelessly into such waters, but this time she was only a little nervous. She did not shy away, for she could only see happiness before her.

\----------------------------------------+

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------+

“Alright, listen up, Catherine,” Lennox began sternly, locking eyes with the redhead sitting next to him on the NEST plane. “We’ve gone over it before, but I have to remind you again: you can’t let anybody know you’re not really eighteen. Everyone on base except for you, me, and the Autobots thinks that’s your age, and if they found out you’re not there could be trouble. Now, Optimus and Jazz will already be out there waiting to ‘escort you’ since you’re their liaison, so hopefully you won’t have to deal with too many of the other guys. However, once you’re settled into your quarters we’re going to have a meeting with General Morshower to make you ‘official’. It’ll mostly just be us talking about your duties, but he might ask you questions, too. He won’t override my decision, so just keep calm and you’ll do fine. “

“Got it,” she nodded.

“You’ll have to call me ‘sir’, by the way. I am your superior here and the others will view it as ‘favoritism’ or just bad if you call me ‘Will’ or something informal when on the job. Off duty time is fine, but on-duty has to be ‘sir’.”

“Got it, sir!” she saluted and he grinned back, swatting at her arm. He knew she understood, though, so he said no more as he leaned back into his seat. Catherine laughed a little and let her eyes wander to the wall separating them from the Autobots in the drop hanger. She could have been back there with them—they weren’t up high enough to need oxygen—but both she and Lennox thought it was for the best. She regretted it a little bit in the beginning, having wanted to talk with the two of them, but when she remembered they were tied down—for their safety, of course—she had a feeling Sideswipe would be too grumpy to talk to. She would listen to him rant and laugh at him for it later.

She hoped they were comfortable, though. Her posterior had fallen asleep at one point and her back wasn’t particularly happy about their seating arrangements, so she could only imagine how the Autobots felt, especially when they apparently received more of the turbulence. The only good part was that it was almost over—not even ten minutes ago the pilots had mentioned they’d be at the base in about fifteen minutes.

The thought coming back to her, she was reminded how her anxiety earlier had long since transformed into excitement, and it made her giddy with the need to squeal with delight. She was finally going to be able to stay among the Autobots! She was going to be a part of their world! She was going to be a part of something amazing and life-changing! How could she not be excited? Everything just had to go well, and with Lennox confident, her chances were looking good.

“So, Lenno—er _sir_. Do you know any of the new Autobots besides Sideswipe?” she asked, the thought suddenly coming to mind.

“Not personally, no, but I do know their names and what to know about them. You’ll get to know them, too, after the meeting with Morshower,” he replied, but then suddenly grimaced and leaned towards her. “Er, well, actually I’m going to give you a heads up: the Twins are really, really, _really_ annoying.”

“Uh… Oh. Um. I can… I can handle ‘annoying’?” she hummed, raising a brow. “ _How_ , uh, annoying?”

“You’ll find out.”

_And now I’m starting to worry_. “I see… By the way… Uh, do all the Autobots know about, uh, _that_ thing of mine?”

She had leaned in to speak at a whisper at that point, so he did much the same, although played it off as if he were just shifting position to put his elbows on his knees. His eyes glanced briefly over at the pilots, but they were busy working the controls.

“Only the ones involved in Mission city,” he replied softly. “Whether or not the others will learn is up to you and Prime. I’ll trust your judgment on it—it’s kind of out of my hands either way.”

“Well, I don’t mind your judgment since I trust it. I think maybe I should tell to those Prime thinks are okay if he hasn’t already. They’re bound to find out anyways, right? No humans, though.”

“Right. On both, I mean. No one besides me. I’ll do what I can to keep the others from getting curious.”

“Thanks, Lennox. Er, ‘sir’,” she smiled and he clasped an arm around her shoulders with a chuckle.

“You’ll do just fine.”

“Lennox, sir, we’re approaching the landing pad. Make sure your seatbelts are fastened,” one of the pilots suddenly spoke up. Lennox pulled his arm away and used it to check her straps, tugging on them. When she gave him an inquiring look he told her the sea breezes could be a little rough on the base. She asked no more and let him fiddle with her straps and then his own before she grasped at her seat just in case. It turned out not to be needed as the landing and breeze wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be. There was a bit of shaking and bumping as the transporter plane lowered and then hit the ground. The final jerk as they hit was the worst, but it was only for a moment. Then their straps were being unbuckled, and the sounds of creaking gears lowering hanger doors and the slowing whirr of a jet engine thundered through the walls of metal contraption. 

She followed Lennox out through the cabin’s doors, grabbing their bags and hopping down the one-foot drop onto the cement floor. While the brown-haired soldier moved off towards the lowered hanger ramp, her eyes roamed across the golden sand and out onto the sea that went on forever until it touched the blue horizon. The sky was cloudless, letting the sun shine brightly down on her, warming her skin through her clothes, and she noticed it was a lot hotter than back home. The scent of salt water filled her nose, and the sound of the waves was growing in strength as the plane engines continued to power down. It was beautiful, and she had to wonder how this could be a military base—it was more like a vacation spot!

“Catherine!” Lennox called out, and she turned to find the man waving at her. She strolled over, still eyeing the scenery, but became distracted as she realized he wasn’t alone. Not only had Ironhide and Sideswipe already transformed, but Optimus Prime and Jazz were there, too, standing proudly in the sunlight. Prime was just as she remembered him—tall, proud, noble, and looking badass with his blue-with-red-flames paint job. Jazz, however, was a wonderful surprise. While he was still the same height, his silver armor was gone and replaced with a pure white color matched with a large, single, dark blue racing stripe along the center of his chest that had more stripes of lighter color on top along with the number four. His helmet had also turned a shade darker, and his visor was now blue instead of black. She couldn’t help but marvel at his new décor, and he knew it too by the way he grinned like he was hot shit, which he was, of course.

“Prime! Jazz!” she shouted happily and would have raced over to them, but their meeting was meant to be diplomatic. There were also some other soldiers around, so that would have looked a little odd. They luckily didn’t mind her shout and neither did Lennox, but she recovered well enough by remaining by her commander’s side as they calmly walked over.

“Greetings, Lennox, Catherine. Welcome to Diego Garcia,” Optimus smiled down at them. “Allow us to escort you inside.”

They nodded, no time for personal talk, and followed after with Prime and Jazz in the lead, the other soldiers covering the sides, and Ironhide and Sideswipe taking up the rear. She let her eyes wander around a bit more, mostly taking in the sight of the large, gray, metal building. It was _huge_ and long, and looked like it was maybe two or three stories tall. She wondered how much they fit in there and assumed the answer was “a lot” since it was for both Autobots and humans. When she looked back towards the landing area, she finally spotted the open hangar doors and could see other aerial vehicles inside along with workers.

She would have looked longer, but they were coming to the open cover area that she assumed was either the main entrance or the back one. There were more soldiers around here—some men, some women, and she could already see more than one race. They were also from more than one country, or they had to be by the occasional thick, legitimate accents, actual, fluent foreign languages, and the different flags shown on their shoulders. The sight sparked a happy thought, knowing it wasn’t just one country, but many from all over the world that were contributing to the coalition.

“And this is where we part ways,” Lennox suddenly stated and stop to pivot on his foot so that he faced the redhead directly. The others in their group stopped as well and turned towards the two of them. “I’ve got to meet with the General before you, so go ahead and go on with Prime. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

She nodded, and he left with the other human guards right on his heels. He looked very professional and in-charge as he walked, which placed in her a mixture of respect and humor. It subsided as Prime called out for her to follow, and she did. He explained how the left side of the base was the humans’ domain, and the right was for the Autobots. Either race was allowed on both sides, but they generally stayed in their respective areas. That worked perfectly for Catherine. She wouldn’t have to be so formal with the Autobots with humans not around and she wouldn’t have to worry her powers being known so easily.

They stopped early at her room with the promise they’d give a proper tour of the base after the meeting, which was apparently to occur in thirty-or-so minutes. She agreed of course, and they let her enter, their group going off to do whatever it is they wanted. The room was cozy enough, though hardly compared to the one back at the ranch. There was a single bed attached to the gray walls covered with sheets, a blanket, and a nice pillow. She did have her own bathroom, fitted with a shower, toilet, and sink and mirror combination to boot. She even had a dresser and a desk for her things. Pleasantly surprised, she decided to wait on unpacking and tossed her bag carelessly onto the bed. From her pocket she pulled out Teletraan who had been very obedient and not made a move or a peep the nearly eight-hour long trip. Now that she'd finally removed him, he took it as a sign to transform and chirp at her.

“We’re home, little guy. You’re going to finally meet some people like you! Ratchet will have a field day, too, but not quite yet. Mind waiting in here for a few more hours? I promise to pay extra special attention to you later,” she smiled, stroking the little drone’s head softly. His blue optics brightened as he beeped and showed a thumb-up on his chest screen. She gave her thanks and let him settle down onto her bed, reminding him to hide if anyone beside her would come in. He agreed again and settled back into his phone form on the green sheets. She waved him good-bye and headed back out.

Jazz was waiting for her, and the grin on her faced widened tenfold. He grinned back and held out his hand, which she all but scrambled onto. The moment he brought her close enough, she latched her arms around his face armor in the best form of a hug she could give to a Cybertronian, causing the mech to laugh.

“I see ya missed me, yeah?” he rumbled as she finally released him.

“Hells yeah! It’s so good to finally be back with you guys!” she replied proudly.

“It’s good ta have ya back with us, too,” he began, but then his smile lowered and his voice softened. “I’m sorry, shorty. I wasn’t there for ya when I shoulda been.”

She smiled back, touching his thumb which had come up to console her. Had he been human it would have been something akin to a hug or a shoulder clasp, but the size difference made it difficult. She understood, though, and squeezed his metal digit back.

“It’s okay. Really, it is. I… It… It kind of needed to happen, and it’s probably best no one was there to prevent it,” she sighed, memories beginning to wander back to that day a little before she stopped them. She shook it off and looked up with a humor in her expression. “If it helps, Sideswipe was a good backup for the aftermath. Not that he compares to your skills, but he did alright. Ironhide helped, too. Anyways, things will be a lot better now that our dynamic duo is back together, so let’s not worry about it alright?”

“Ya got it, shorty. You’re the boss. Well, one ‘o them. Kinda,” he winked, and she raised a brow. “You gunna be our liaison, so ya got some authority ‘round us now. Don’t let the others know I told ya, though. Some ‘o them might be a little touchy about bein’ told what ta do by ya. ‘Course ya got ‘ol Jazz here an’ Prime ta back ya up.”

“Oh, Jazz, my friend, you have just made my day so much better,” she laughed, a mischievous twinkle to her eye. “So how much time left do we have to chill before I’m called away to the meeting?”

“I think we can take a little stroll or somethin’. Give ya a quick look at the place, y’know?”

“Sound good to me! Lead the way—I’m in your hands now! Literally!”

Mech and red-head laughed together as he pivoted on his feet and took her further down the hall, away from the way they had come. At the same time, Jazz began to explain the layout of the base, describing how there were still human rooms on this side, but they were vacant except for those few that couldn’t find space on their own side. They wouldn’t be near her, though, and some areas on the Autobot’s side were set as off-limits to any humans besides her. The main one being Ratchet’s “Medical Bay”, and their personal rooms, all of which had apparently once been hanger or training rooms. If given permission, humans could enter, but not otherwise. She apparently didn’t need to ask, but she knew she would. It would be rude to suddenly barge in. Unless she was trying to be rude, but that was a different story.

He brought her to one of the hangar rooms, although this one was especially big. It was also filled with mauled and beaten slabs of metal objects she couldn’t discern from the damage. She noted there were lots of scorch marks along the floors, accompanied by some decently sized cracks and holes in the walls. She didn’t really need to be told, but Jazz informed her it was the main training room for the Autobots. NEST has been kind enough to provide old building supplies or broken parts for targets. They also had some set up outside on the pavement and even in the sand, but inside training was preferred. The sand tended to easily get stuck in their gears, and if too much got into some joints they would have to go see Ratchet who would end up making a big fuss and gripe about it.

“Hey, where’s everybody else, by the way? And are any of the new Autobots around? I’m actually kind of eager to meet them! How many are there anyways?” she asked as Jazz returned to the hallways.

“Not sure myself, but they’re probably back in their own rooms ‘o somethin’. As for them new guys, Prime has most of ‘em out scoutin’ the different countries for ‘Cons and ta let ‘em get used ta bein’ around humans. There’s only a few of the more troublesome ones 'round here. In total there’s ‘bout eighteen new ones right now. Think about five more are suppose ta be comin’ in ‘bout a few weeks or so.”

“Nice! Any tips on how to handle them? I can do Sideswipe already, so if any of them are like him then I’m not going to be too worried,” she grinned as she imagined the silver mech’s possible retorts to her boast.

“Now, now, shorty,” he began, waggling a finger at her. “Don’t be tryin’ ta get me ta help ya cheat. Ya gotta learn about ‘em all on ya own.”

She gave an exaggerated sigh, “Oh, _alright_. How hard could it be to keep you guys in line? Or rather—how hard is it to get you guys to listen? You did a pretty bad job when we told you to stay put when I went to get the glasses. You remember?”

“’Course I do. That was different, though. We kinda had a time limit goin’ on ‘n stuff. Now we’re chillin’ and just waitin’ for when any ‘Con shows up and starts causin’ trouble.”

“A perfect little task force you’ve got here,” she grinned back, but then frowned after a few seconds. “So there’s a lot of Decepticons coming to Earth then? But… why? The Allspark is gone—or well, for them I guess. They don’t know about me, and they don’t know about the shard, right? And then Megatron is gone. What could they want here?”

“Hate ta say it, but we don’t know. We know they don’t know about the Allspark shard or ya powers, ‘cause they haven’t been comin’ here. They been appearing up at random places, and these are ‘Cons that are apparently workin’ for Starscream—we found out through some interrogations, y’see—and we know he knows Megatron and the Allspark are gone. So your guess is as good as ours. We’re tryin’ ta figure it out, though.”

“Hmm… So you couldn’t find anything about what they’re looking for from the interrogations?” she inquired, rubbing her chin curiously, and Jazz nodded. “It must be really important. Maybe we need to look deeper. Like, where have the ‘Cons been appearing? Are the places important or anything? Have they’ve been going after anything in particular at the places? We need to keep interrogating them, too. Ugh, but I wonder how well that would go. Decepticons must be pretty hard to capture, right?”

“Yeah, it can be hard when we’re tryin’ ta keep ‘em from attackin’ humans and usin’ ‘em as shields and then tryin’ to keep as few humans as possible from findin’ out, but we do what we gotta do. And you’re on ta somethin’ there. Ya got a good brain on ya, shorty. Ya should talk with Prime n’ Lennox about that stuff. They’re already askin’ the same questions.”

"Yeah, if I have time,” she snorted, folding her arms. Jazz’s curious look prompted her to continue with a sigh. “Ugh. Lennox is going to have me training both physically and with the liaison work, so I’m not going to have a lot of free time to think.”

"Naw, I doubt that. You’re bound ta find some time. I’d be shocked if ya didn’t.”

“Eh, you’re probably right. And I’ll talk to Prime and Lennox when I can. I need to know more first, anyways.”

“And ya will, but now we gotta get ya to ya meeting. Prime is callin’,” the mech hummed, taking them back to the main, familiar hallway. She frowned, but kept silent and leaned back into his fingers, which served as a good back support. Though the ends were clawed, he curved them just right so she got the rounded, smooth edge and not the point. If only the prospect of what lay ahead could have made the trip more enjoyable. She didn’t really want to have to answer any questions—who knows what the Morshower guy would be like or ask her? Lennox was okay with him, though, and he did seem to know the guy well enough, but _she_ didn’t, and the guy didn’t know her. What if he didn’t think she was good enough? Things could get awkward very quickly.

As if sensing her thoughts—and he may as well have considering— she felt Jazz’s fingers close around her, pressing down with gentle comfort. She touched them in response, leaning her head back to look at him with an insincere upside-down smile. She would get through it like everything else, and then she could get back to her tour and meeting with the other Autobots. She could also maybe meet some of the soldiers and maybe find Epps and the others—she still didn’t have all their names down, but she would—and get to hang out with them for a while. She preferred the Autobots a bit more, but the soldiers weren’t too far off. They were just a lot smaller and fleshy and didn’t know she was the Allspark.

“Alright, this is where I gotta put ya down and ya gotta walk with Prime. Carryin’ is a little weird fo' some ‘o the humans, so we don’t do it ta keep things cool,” he spoke up as they approached the last bend that would lead out to the open area separating the wings. She nodded as he lowered her to the ground and she stepped off.

“You’re not coming?”

“Nah. This is ‘leader-only’ business. Second-in-Commands aren’t allowed, y’see? But I’ll be waiting for ya, so don’t ya worry. We’ll finish up that tour a yours.”

“Okay,” she smiled, and giving a quick wave, hurried off down the hallway. Right away she spotted the red-and-blue figure of Optimus Prime waiting for her, his optics already tracking her every move. She smiled up at him once she was closer, and he returned it in kind. They exchanged short, formal greetings, and then they were walking, Prime at a slow pace, and Catherine at a quick, but easy one to not seem like she was struggling to keep up. They ventured into the human area where Prime had to duck a little at times, and where humans would pause to look at the two of them as they passed. She could swear she saw awe in every single on their faces, and she couldn’t help growing the smug feeling in her chest.

Of course, the moment the Autobot Commander stopped and told her they were at the meeting sight, all traces of smugness transformed into butterflies flapping hurricanes in her stomach. She told him she was good to go, though, and followed him into the darkened room. It was a small, but the ceiling was high enough for Prime to stand without crouching or lowering his head. There were two levels of chairs and desks, but only two seats were occupied. One person she knew—Lennox—but the other was a stranger to her and only made the butterflies flap harder. The image of the older— but not lacking any vigor— man on the projection on the wall was the worst of them all, though. She knew right away he was General Morshower and she would have frozen had Lennox not called her over to sit beside him.

Thankfully her body listened to her head and she did as told while Prime took up standing behind them. She dared a quick peek at the other—a woman— whom regarded her with cool eyes as if studying her. She tried to force herself to ignore the woman, but she could feel their gaze. Then there was Morshower, who looked right at her and didn’t look all that impressed. Granted, why would he? She was a sixteen, or rather, _eighteen_ -year old young woman who had been brought to be a liaison because she was friends with the Autobots. Oh, sure she helped save the world from a crazy overlord Decepticon, but she was pretty sure he’d save the world more times than the years she’d been alive.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Catherine Wolf,” he began, his voice calm and unreadable. She didn’t know what to make of that, but she decided to take it as a good sign.

“It’s a pleasure, General Morshower,” she managed and took pride in the fact she was actually able to talk.

“I have been informed you are to be NEST’s very own liaison between the Autobots and humans, and come recommended by both Lennox _and_ Optimus Prime. A look into your file shows you also participated in the battle of Mission City and were vital in the defeat of the enemy’s commander. I did notice a lack of actual liaison training, though, and your young age creates a lack of years of service.”

“If I may, General,” Lennox began, coming to her rescue. Already she could feel her heart racing a million miles a second. “While not on file, I can confirm that she has already begun to train as both a soldier and a liaison. This has been done ‘off the grid’, so to speak. I’ve also scheduled her to continue training in both areas.”

“I see. Well then, you seem to be all set, Ms. Wolf. However, while I am one to trust Lennox judgment, I have to wonder if you really are prepared for this. Optimus Prime vouching for you leads me to believe you have some friend among them, but friendship does not make a good liaison. You will have to deal with problems that friendship won’t always solve, and you will be held responsible for the Autobots’ actions. If they do something wrong we will come to not just Prime but to _you_ as well and except answers, which you will need to give if we are to keep peace in this coalition. Do you really think you can handle this?”

The knots in her stomach were so tight that Catherine didn’t want to open her mouth for the fear she might cry out in pain. She knew she shouldn’t be so nervous or frightened, but she couldn’t help it! Both instinctively and consciously she knew this was more important than anything she’d ever encountered—even more than when she’d faced Megatron himself. Was she ready for it? Was she ready to take on such a task? Could she handle whatever came for her? Could she protect the Autobots and keep them in line? Was she strong enough?

_Yes. You are. You made it this far with your own strength—you can’t wimp out now! There’s no going back. You can do this_.

“I don’t think—I _know_ I can,” she spoke and there was only a little shaking to her voice. “NEST needs someone who can get along with both Autobots and humans and understand both sides. I can… No, I _am_ that person.”

Silence followed, and had she looked, she would have seen Lennox holding back a proud smile. If she had looked behind her, she would have seen Prime not bothering to hold back his. The woman didn’t smile as the first two, but the coolness from before had warmed some. Catherine’s eyes, on the other hand, were steadfast and locked onto Morshower’s, watching for any signs. The man was a stalwart wall that revealed nothing as he stared back, testing her. She was determined, though, and it was as if land and sea were colliding; neither willing to back down, locked in an eternal fight. However, she was not really the sea and he was not truly the land, and the battle came to end when the General let the smallest hint of a smile appear at the edge of his mouth.

“You’ve chosen well, Lennox. However, she’s still too raw to put right into the fray. For that reason, I’ve brought in a more experienced liaison for her to shadow and learn from. Catherine, I’d like you to meet Marissa Faireborn.”

The woman stood and Catherine finally good a good look at her mature physique, brunette locks pulled back into a pony tail, and her red lips which curved into a kind smile. Her brown eyes met Catherine’s hazel ones and kinship was found in them. She looked to be in her later twenties, maybe early thirties, and had the air of one used to having authority. She seemed more like a soldier in the way she stood so proudly with her head held high, and the formal military uniform only helped to enforce the notion. Catherine was impressed by her, and happily reached out the grasp the woman’s waiting hand. The grip was strong, which she returned in kind. She liked the woman already.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Catherine Wolf. Let’s do our best to keep everyone in line, shall we?” Marissa smiled, and there was a sparkle in her eyes that the redhead knew all too well, and was more than happy to agree too.

Oh, yes, she liked the woman very much, and they were going to get along just fine.

\----------------------------------------+

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------+

The moment Catherine and Optimus were back within the safety of the Autobot wing, the red head let a deep, deep sigh. Beside her, Prime slowed and looked down with a mixture of amusement and concern. She smiled up at him, and the concern became amusement, too.

“We had to sit through a lot of talking, but it looks like we’re finally good to go! General Morshower approves and I got a teacher to boot!” she laughed, adding some pep to her step.

“I am glad it went so well, too. Granted, both Commander Lennox and I already knew you would be accepted, but the meeting was assuring and inspiring. You will do well, Catherine,” he replied warmly, and she chuckled softly.

“Thanks, OP. I promise I won’t let you down! “

“I am confident you won’t. Though, perhaps you would prefer to relax now that the ordeal is over. We can speak tomorrow of any matters you might wish to discuss if you would like.”

“That sounds good to me,” she hummed happily. “I have been curious about some things, and it’ll be nice to catch up. We haven’t talked in so long! I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me, Optimus.”

He chuckled, “No, I am not avoiding you, Catherine, and I would love to ‘catch up’. Feel free to come find me whenever you find time.”

“You won’t be busy?”

“No, I am surprisingly free tomorrow. If nothing should happen, it will remain as such.”

“That’s cool! So, yeah, I’ll definitely look you up when I can! Maybe you can tell me more about you guys history, too, and, uh, you-know-what.”

“I would be happy, too, and perhaps it is time we spoke of ‘you-know-what’ again, as I have been informed you’ve recently used it.”

The tone of his voice made her look away and scratch the back of her head sheepishly.

“Yeah, uh, there’s a good reason behind that. I’ll explain that when we talk, too.”

"I am merely ‘teasing’ you, I believe is the right word,” he rumbled, smiling softly. “Until we meet, then?”

She paused to see that they had come to the end of the hall and Jazz was standing not far off in the same spot he had left her, just as he'd promised. She smiled up at him, and he returned it back.

"Yeah. Until we meet. Take care, Optimus.”

“You as well and… Well, I believe the best term for it would be ‘Welcome home’.”

Her smiled brightened in that moment, her chest swelling with happiness.

“Yeah. Glad to be home.”

\----------------------------------------+

_**TMWolf:** I don't know if anyone knows, but Marissa Faireborn is actually a character from G1!_ _She was in the cartoon and comics. She also had a version in Kiss Players, but this is DEFINITELY not her. She's more of the G.I. Joe-type one in G1 and the comics._

_Anyways. Catherine is home and things are looking good! Something bad obviously has to happen soon! It's T.M. Wolf we're talking about her! She can't let her characters ever have fun for long! Yes, well, actually this time I'm nice for quite a few chapters :) Shocking, I know, but hey- I gotta be nice sometimes. So, yes, there are eighteen Autobots, including the main crew, but also all that came on the Xantium, which are: Arcee, Chromia, Elita-1, Sideswipe, Skids, Mudflap, Jolt, and all three Wreckers. They were apparently there during the 2nd movie, but stuck at NASA because, well, they're jerks. The novel even says so I think. The one I've added aren't really G1 but they ARE part of the toyline and/or comics, so they're included, but don't worry- G1 characters WILL come! ...and a few other surprises, but those I won't tell until they come ;)_

_Oh, and Jazz's new look is based on his redeco toy post the '07 movie! He looks like his G1 self pretty much~ I thought he always looked much better as black and white with those blue stripes. Anywho- I'm out! Gonna be celebrating my birthday this weekend, so see ya!_


	20. Welcome to Paradise Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Green Day! :) By the way THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO'S GIVEN KUDOS AND COMMENTED. Y'all are amazing <3

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“So how’d it go for ya?” Jazz asked as he strolled through the halls, Catherine grasping the side of his helmet with one hand and the other stuffed into her pocket. With another Autobot she would have needed to use her free hand, but the white-armored mech moved in such a way that she was jerked far less than before.

“Just about peed my pants in the first few minutes,” she laughed. “But once I found my courage it got good. It took longer than I would’ve liked to explain everything, though. I’m not even sure I’ll remember half of it tomorrow, but that’s where the Marissa woman is supposed to come in. She’s pretty cool by the way.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like things are goin’ good for ya then!”

“Mmmhmmm. And I plan to keep it that way. I could maybe use some help sometimes, though. I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to give me a hand?” she smiled slyly, and the mech chuckled.

“How can I say no ta ya? Just say the word and I’ll take ya ta the best hidin’ spots around here—ones even ‘ol Ratch couldn’t sniff ya out from.”

“Oh you are such a bad ‘bot, Jazz,” she teased, waggling her finger at him. “And speaking of Ratchet, how about we pay a visit? There’s something he wanted to see. It’s in my room, though.”

He raised a metallic brow, “That so? Anythin’ ta do with what happened at Lennox’s place?”

"Of course you would figure it out,” she grinned. “And, yeah, it does. You should meet Teletraan, too! He’s really very sweet and adorable!”

“Sure thing,” he smiled back, turning left down the hallway. She almost recognized the path, but she couldn’t be sure. The walls looked pretty much the same all around the base. She hadn’t looked, but she hoped there would be some signs, or else she’d have to rely on Teletraan or somebody else to help her around. That or get a map. Did they even have those here?

They ended up being closer to her room than she thought, and within minutes Jazz had her stepping off his hand onto the floor. He waited while she hurried inside and woke up the little phone drone. As always, he was ecstatic to see her and chirped happily at the prospect of meeting the other Autobots. Since humans weren’t generally allowed over in the area, she let the little guy crawl up onto her shoulder rather than put in her pocket. He was very happy to be able to nuzzle Catherine’s cheek, and was relieved to have her neck to hide behind when the redhead stood right below Jazz.

“Aww, he thinks you’re intimidating,” she laughed softly as she coaxed the little guy out from behind her. Jazz chuckled back, crouching down low to bring his face closer. He waved at the phone drone like an adult would to a kid, and it seemed to work, as the little guy perked up curiously.

“He doesn’t speak besides the chirps and smiley faces he shows, but Ironhide said he could send messages through your comm. link or something,” Catherine explained, motioning for Jazz to set his hand out for her to climb onto.

“Yeah, ‘Hide talked a little ‘bout ‘em; said he wasn’t full Cybertronian, but he understood both ours and ya language.”

“It’s true—he doesn’t have a spark like you guys. I think it’s more like he’s running on a never-ending battery or something. I’m not really sure, to be honest. But that’s what Ratchet’s for, right? Granted, I don’t really mind what he is—all I know is that he’s adorable, smart, and the most perfect little guy ever.”

Teletraan chirped and whirred happily, increasing his nuzzling, though had to pause to grasp onto her shirt for balance as Jazz lifted them up to his shoulder while he stood up himself. The mech apologized when the little guy whirred unhappily, but he was happy again in the next moment. 

“Aw, what ‘bout me, shorty? Ain’t that my title?”

“Well, first of all, you’re not a ‘little guy’. You’re the big one, and secondly, you’re my big-guardian-bro, remember? You’re on a different scale from everybody else.”

“Oh, is that so? Well what am I on this ‘different’ scale, then?” he smiled playfully.

“Oh, I’ll never tell,” she replied, adding a silly evil laugh afterwards. “By the way—are you losing your gangster-accent?”

“Naw, not really. Just happens when I gotta say certain words ‘n all. See? I’m talkin’ like it now ain’t I?”

“Or playing it off very well.”

“Oh, I’ll never tell ya,” he snickered back, and she laughed. Feeling left out, Teletraan chirped loudly and “pawed” at her cheek, which was more like being scratched softly by long nails.

“Awww, you feeling ignored, Teletraan?” she cooed, stroking his head. “I promised I would give you extra attention later, and I still plan to, you silly.”

“Man, you actin’ weird with that little guy,” the white mech chuckled, and the redhead stuck her tongue out.

“I can act however I want to him. _I_ made him after all, and he’s just so damn _cute_!” she gushed, and, upon Jazz’s “look”, she continued. “It’s a human thing, alright? We go all gaga weird on really adorable and cute or adorably cute things.”

“Whatevah ya say, shorty. Whatevah ya say,” he replied, shaking his head with an amused smile. Catherine huffed, but said nothing back as she continued to pet Teletraan, whom loved every second of it. She remained quiet though, wanting to give her jerk-of-a-guardian the silent treatment. However, he was clever, and did the same right back to her, which made things awkward, although in the funny kind of way, thankfully. It was also a little cruel for Catherine, whom began to feel bored of it and odd not talking to him. It was what they always did, so the silence was weird. Very weird. And she knew he wasn’t going to give up first either, the jerk.

“God dammit, fine!” she growled after about thirty seconds had gone by, and Jazz busted out laughing. From there things went back to normal for the two, their talk going this way and that, although mostly staying within range of what went on at the base. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time to do so, as they were barely turning down the hall when the unmistakable shout of a certain medic thundered off the walls. Succeeding it were the cries of two voices she didn’t know. Catherine raised a brow at Jazz, but the white-armored mech merely grinned and continued walking.

She found out soon enough as the two of them came across the lime-green armor of the medic looming over the rusted colors of the smallest and oddest Cybertronians she had ever seen. And when she said small, she meant _small_. They were shorter than Jazz, and they were round like they were chubby or something. It was kind of funny. Their googly, mismatched eyes didn’t help, nor did their “teeth”—one had a gold tooth like some ghetto wannabe and the other one had a bad case of buckteeth. She gave Jazz an incredulous look, but the mech still just grinned as he walked in. She gave him props for not jumping when the medic suddenly turned on them, optics blazing and looking very Decepticon-like. The sight of them tempered the flames a little, and Ratchet turned away with a snort when Jazz set the redhead down on the table where the other two were.

“Who the hell is this?” one of the two—the one with what looked like the front a weird car on its chest—asked as he gestured at the redhead, their tone not at all civilized and their accent sparking annoyance at once.

“It’s a human ya dumbass,” the other—looking to be part of the back of a car—griped back, smacking the first on the head.

“You’re… You’re kidding... right?” Catherine turned back to Jazz.

“Nope.”

“Watch your language, you little glitches!” Ratchet growled, smacking them both on the head. “And show more respect for your new liaison!”

“ _What_?” they both cried out in unison.

“Yeeeeeep. That’s me,” the redhead smiled, verging on a smirk.

“Hey, I ain’t taken no order from some little ho, ya dig? Skids a solo mech,” the front-end-of-a-car mech huffed, folding his arms.

“Yeah, yeah. Mudflap don’t do that neither. We ain’t gonna listen to no human!”

“Oh for the love of—!” she sighed, pinching the brow of her nose.

“You _will_ listen to her, or you will be finding yourself speaking to a very unhappy Prime instead,” Ratchet barked, glaring. The two mechs became silent, but were still defiant.

“Ratchet, you’re just wasting your time on these white, gangster-wannabe posers,” Catherine spoke up loudly, making sure the two heard every word. Both glared at her, and she glared back. “You heard me. You two think you’re so ‘fly’ with your ‘ganstah’ talk, but you wouldn’t know how to pop a cap up anyone’s ass even if I gave you as a kid’s coloring instruction booklet. So listen up good ya little turds—I’m your new liaison which means if you want _anything_ from NEST you’ve got to ask _me_ , and if I don’t like you then you can be sure I will ‘forget’ you asked me and you’ll get _nothing_. To put it on a level you might understand: you’re my bitches. Got it?”

While Ratchet snorted and Jazz stifled his laughter behind a hand, the two mechs stared, gawking at the redhead. She had her hands on her hips and her face set firmly with one brow raised expectantly, and then there was Teletraan on her shoulder, chirping at the two as if he was talking them down. Catherine knew full well what she was doing, and knew exactly what the two mechs were. They were just like all those little brats at school who thought they were some hot gangster shit with their pants hanging too low, had their hats on sideways, wore fake bling, and talked like they had a speech impediment. Please. She’d made friends with _real_ gangsters, and she knew just how to deal with these posers.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’,” she spoke sternly, but softened when she turned to Ratchet. “And it’s good to see you again, Ratchet, although our circumstances are a little… uh, well, not as good as usual.”

“Indeed, but is good to see you as well. Now,” he rumbled back, turning his optics back onto the two mechs, “if you two are done desecrating my Medbay with your idiocy, then _leave_ before I _make you_ leave.”

The two mechs said nothing as they quickly scrambled away, smart enough to realize the medic’s tone was deadly and imminent of worse things to come if they didn’t obey. They sprinted past Jazz, although it was more like a weird hobbling—kind of like a penguin. Regardless, it made Catherine snicker, and then mouth “I own you” when they looked back. They didn’t deny it, and kept on going, leaving the four alone.

“Hot slag, shorty. Where’d ya learn _that_? You been holdin’ out on me,” Jazz grinned, and the redhead shrugged.

“Eh, I got a couple of real gangsters on my wrestling team and a lot of tough kids who are close to being gangster, so I just kinda learned how to dish it out from them. Glad it finally came in handy. Hopefully I’ll be able to pull off another one of those. I can already tell those guys are going to be a pain in the ass!”

“You have _no_ idea,” Ratchet groaned, shaking his head. “They’ve barely been here a few days and they’ve been in here nearly ten times! Little fraggers keep fighting each other—you wouldn’t think they were Twins at all! If only Jolt were back then I could shove them onto him… Anyways, you’ve come to see me, so I can only assume you brought the ‘Teletraan’ drone you mentioned?”

“Huh, oh, right. And ‘Teletraan’ is his _name_ , Ratchet,” she spoke with a hint of annoyance as he pulled the little phone drone from her shoulder. The medic huffed at her tone, but then leaned in curiously. Teletraan shied away at first, but Catherine’s coaxing kept him strong and brave against Ratchet’s gaze. It faltered ever so slightly when the medic suddenly scanned the little guy without warning, but it was over quickly enough and the redhead’s reassurance helped.

“Hmm… Well, ‘he’ is definitely Cybertronian according to my scan, although he does lack a spark as you suspected in your messages,” he rumbled, looking through the data on his arm’s screen. “It is strange, though. Without a spark he shouldn’t be able to function as efficiently as he does. Although… ah, yes—there it is. Traces of Allspark energy.”

She frowned, pulling Teletraan close to let him cuddle against her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it’s just a hypothesis, but I believe the Energon you poured into him is serving as a ‘false’ spark. His small size helps, as well, allowing the Energon to remain within a small space and to not be so wide spread, making it stronger. Unfortunately, because it’s a ‘false’ spark a proper personality and intelligence cannot form.”

“Okay, uh, I don’t remember that lesson on sparks—what do they have to do with your brain?”

“Our sparks each have a specific wavelength that acts as a ‘signature’ of sorts, and also like a blueprint to how our bodies will form and grow. This includes our personalities, although those are also altered by outside events. Since—‘Teletraan’, was it? Right, since ‘Teletraan’ does not possess an actual spark with a ‘signature’ he does not have a fully made Cybertronian CPU.”

“Well, then how come he has some personality? He has emotions and he’s generally a cheerful little guy,” she replied, and Teletraan proved her point by chirping happily and nuzzling into her arm as if curling up like a cat.

Ratchet hummed, “Well, since his spark came from the Allspark, the Energon within him has _some_ signature, but not enough to make it a _full_ Cybertronian signature. The best example would be how your own ‘blueprints’—DNA—are different from other organisms such as in your apes or canines or felines. You said yourself he acts more like one of your ‘pets’ at times, although he has shown to be capable of intelligent actions. However, I don’t think he’ll grow any further, else the Energon within him might become unstable or won’t be able to support him.”

Catherine frowned then, looking down at her little creation. If he couldn’t grow then that meant he probably wouldn’t ever be able to truly talk. She didn’t really mind that—in fact she thought he was perfect the way he was—but she didn’t know how he would feel about it. Granted, she wasn’t even sure if he understood he couldn’t get bigger, but she didn’t want that to upset him. She supposed they would have to cross that bridge when they got to it, but for now, she would keep him as happy as possible.

“Now that brings us to your own abilities,” the medic hummed, pulling her away from the little phone drone. “From what I’ve been told, you made him from the electrical energy you absorbed from a generator, correct?”

“That’s right, and then I just focused on sending the Allspark energy into the phone.”

“I see. That seems about right. The size and Energon amount fit. The same can be said for the first one you created—the size fit with the amount of energy you absorbed. I wasn’t able to tell much about the first drone, but I suspect it was much the same as ‘Teletraan’ here.”

She tilted her head, “So… are you saying… I could maybe create one of _you_ if I had the right amount of energy?”

“Perhaps. Although, the signature from ‘Teletraan’ is different from a normal spark, and not just because it is incomplete,” the medic replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “While ours follow smooth, recognizable patterns, the signature of the Energon of ‘Teletraan’ seems to have no pattern, as if it were just randomly jumbled together.”

“Well, maybe it’s because I wasn’t focusing on making an actual spark—just bringing my phone to life?” she suggested and the medic hummed, although whether in thought or agreement she wasn’t sure.

“We’d have to test it to be sure, but I’m worried about how it will affect your body. While you’ve showed increasing endurance, and bringing this one to life posed you no trouble, you have been using much smaller amount of energy than when you revived Jazz. I cannot be certain you will not suffer any repercussions from the amounts needed to make an actual spark.”

“Not that she’ll be getting’ much time ta work on her skills, ‘n all,” Jazz added, finally speaking up. “It’s probably not a good idea ta work or bring up the Allspark too much here, too. ‘Least, not ‘til we can be sure her powers will be safe and kept secret.”

“He has a point,” Ratchet nodded. “While I doubt we need to worry about the other humans kidnapping you for experimentation, it might not go over so well if they realize you have your powers. Relations are tense enough as it is.”

“I figured that, and I’ve still got control over my powers so I don’t need to worry too much. I do want to figure it out more, though. If you’re pretty confident in this ‘hypothesis’ of yours or whatever, then maybe, if I concentrate and have a big enough energy source, I can make a Cybertronian spark!” Catherine exclaimed, looking down at one of her uplifted palms with bright eyes. “I can wait, though. I do need to ‘settle in’ before I try anything, and I should talk to Lennox about it, too. He’ll understand and be able to help.”

“Don’t be too rash now, shorty. Ya gotta take it slow like before,” the white mech spoke, a small touch of sternness in his voice.

“We’ll have plenty of time as well. There seems to a great amount of it here, in fact. Although, those two glitch heads are doing a fine job of taking up _mine_ ,” Ratchet grumbled. “Anyways, Jazz is right. We should take this slow. The Allspark has always been a mystery to us, and now it’s even more so with you having its powers. It’s best not to push it too far until we understand it more.”

She waited a moment before nodding with a sigh, “Yeah, okay. You’re both right, of course. I was just a little excited is all. So what now then?”

“Well, _I_ am going to relax until Ironhide comes in for his checkup, which means I’ll probably have to find and drag him here,” the medic sighed with more exasperation than she’d ever heard from him. “You two, in the meantime, can do whatever you like so long as it doesn’t involve bothering me or being in this room. So scat.”

“Ya heard the mech,” Jazz chuckled, surprising Catherine and Teletraan by scooping her up from behind. She yelped and the drone chirped loudly at first, not haven’t expected it, but then the redhead regained her balance and both glared at him instead. He took it well as he let her hop off onto his shoulders. Ratchet merely shook his head at the two, turning away to monitor his screens. Before the white mech could turn away, the redhead gestured for him to wait.

“What about Teletraan, Ratchet? Do you need to see him anymore or anything?”

“I’ve got all the data I need. If I do see him it will be to repair him, but I’m hoping that will not be the case anytime soon,” he replied at once, not even bothering to look back.

“Got it. See ya later, Ratchet!” she waved, and the medic did turn ever so slightly to glance back with a small smile. He didn’t wave, but she knew him well enough that he had was still happy to see her too. Then he was gone behind the sliding doors that Jazz had to close himself, and they were walking down the hall again.

“Well that went better than I thought,” Catherine hummed as she stroked Teletraan, who was still curled in her arm.

“What’d ya think it was gonna be like?” her white-armored guardian mused with a grin.

“Uh, more grumpiness, I guess. I learned more than I thought, too,” she smiled back.

“You’re off ta a good start then, ain’t ch’ya?”

“Do you think so? I mean, I do, but I might just still be on my excitement high.”

Jazz stopped to turn and look at her, “I think if ya happy, then ya doin’ good, and if that’s the case, I’ll do everythin’ I can ta keep it that way.”

Catherine slowly smiled. It started small, but it soon widened and brightened along with her eyes. Using her free arm, she pulled herself to his helmet and pressed herself to it in a hug. She didn’t need her powers to sense he was sincere, and that alone helped her doubts go away. She was definitely happy, and she didn’t intend to change it.

“Thanks, Jazz.”

“Anytime, shorty.”

And, seeing it was the perfect moment to ruin, her stomach growled. A second of awkward silence followed, which was quickly succeeded by embarrassed and amused laughter.

“I forgot I haven’t eaten since this morning,” she chuckled, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

“Well, as ya guardian I can’t have ya goin’ hungry on me. I’ll take ya back ta the human sector so they can take ya to the mess hall for some food,” he replied between his own chuckles and turned on his heels.

“I’ll get Teletraan to message Lennox then. _If_ he remembered to turn on his own phone that is,” the redhead grumbled as she nudged her little phone drone awake. The little guy was happy to relay the message, and, thankfully, the Commander’s phone was on for once and she received a reply soon enough that he would meet her at her room to take her. With a quick change of route, Jazz had them heading to their new destination. When they got there, though, it wasn’t Lennox waiting. Instead, it was a familiar silver mech who looked up at them with surprised optics.

“Sideswipe? What are you doing here?” Catherine asked as Jazz came to stand a few feet from him.

“I was bored,” was his only reply, accompanied by a shrug. “What are you doing with Jazz?”

“Don’t get jealous now, but he and I have been catching up. It’s been a long time since my bro and I hung out,” the redhead smirked back, and it only grew when the silver mech’s frowned a little.

He recovered quickly, “Well, whatever. I’ll find something else to do.”

“Aww, don’t be that way, ‘Sides!” she called out as he rolled by, sulking ever so slightly. “We can hang out later! I told you we would before we left the ranch, didn’t I?”

The mech merely grunted and kept going, rolling down the hall and then around the corner, out of sight. Catherine sighed, shaking her head, while Jazz looked at her, curiously amused.

“He can be such a baby over silly things! Granted, I didn’t tell him about how you’re my whole ‘bro-guardian’, but still! Has he always been like this?”

The white mech shrugged a little, “Not always, but bein’ away from his twin is probably puttin’ stress on ‘em, so he can get too attached sometimes.”

“Oh… I don’t want him getting mad with you, though. I mean, he’s my friend and you’re my bro, so it’s two different tiers, but I don’t think he’ll get that. Ugh! This sucks now.”

Jazz laughed, “I’ll try ta help keep it cool ‘round here. Just don’t ignore ‘em, and try and hang out with ‘em a bit more than me. I know that’s gonna be hard ‘n all with me bein’ the Jazz-man, but I know ya can do it.”

“And _you_ won’t get jealous or anything?”

“Naw, I’m actually pretty busy ‘round here. Second-in-Command over here ya remember? And you know I’d never be jealous ‘o him. I’m ya bro—friends don’t compare ta that.”

“Looks like we’re all set then.”

“Looks like it.”

“Just gotta wait for Lennox.”

“Yep.”

Her stomach growled again.

“He better hurry. My tummy is being rumbly grumbly.”

One long pause later and Jazz gave her an odd look.

“What?”

\----------------------------------------+

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------+

Luckily for Catherine’s rumbly grumbly tummy, her Commander showed up a few minutes later. He had balked at first, seeing the redhead so high up despite the one who was carrying her, but then he sighed, remembering just who the young woman was. Luckily for his sanity and worry, she had Jazz set her down on the ground where Lennox gave her a quick lecture on how she shouldn’t do that. She took it well, even apologizing—albeit insincerely— but it was forgotten the moment she waved good-bye to her white-armored guardian and, after quickly putting Teletraan back into her room for safety, they headed off to get some grub. 

The halls in the human area were oddly empty compared to before, but that was casually explained as it being dinner time, so any of the crew not on duty were eating, and if they were on duty they wouldn’t be in the hallway. When asked what “duty” was, Lennox told her it was mostly just “guard” duty or surveillance at the moment, but they would expand it out as time went by. That settled, they continued on, her Commander asking how she was liking the base and her room so far. Of course, she thought it was wonderful, though playfully noted she was worried she might not get any time to enjoy it. He eased her questions by letting her know she would have free time like everyone else, but probably not until the evening.

Before they could get into any more topics, the two finally reached the “Kitchen” doors, and were thrust into a loud, jubilant throng of men and women of all races already eating, walking around with food, or waiting to get their meals. The nervousness crept in when she realized she didn’t recognize anyone in the room except for the man next to her, but Lennox was there to help guide her along rather than let her stand there dumbly. He showed her where to get plates and food, and even gave tips on what to get according to some of the other soldiers’ opinions. The base was actually fed very well considering their location, and she was delighted to find some meat and vegetables waiting for her. He mocked her for what she might have thought she’d get, and her response was to stick her tongue out at him. He chuckled as they moved towards a specific table towards the middle, Lennox waving or grinning at anybody who saluted or called out to the “Commander”. Some odd looks were given to her, but she brushed them off as just that she looked young and she was a stranger that had walked in and with their Commander like it was normal. Things might just become awkward around here.

Thankfully, that wasn’t going to be the case for Lennox and their “group”.

“Well, lookie here—its little ‘ol Catherine finally joining us!” the sole black man laughed—Epps, she remembered—from across the table and clasped hands with both Lennox and the redhead.

“Good to be here, too,” she smiled back, but one of the men—Mexican by the look of him—snorted. She looked him over quickly, and realized she hadn’t seen him before. None of the soldiers back at the Sector Seven base had his particular dark-tanned skin tone, although lighter than Epps’, nor did they have the particular ruggedness to his slightly-bearded jaw that could be mistaken for chubbiness at first glance. His eyes were dark and his head was shaved short enough to look bald from afar, but it was more of a Vin Diesel look. Like the rest he was fairly muscular and had the air of a soldier about him, but also a possibly very interesting character.

“Yeah, just wait until you hit training! Ugh! It’s the worst!” he groaned, his Latino accent clear as day, and “shot” himself with his finger for emphasis. “We never had to do all the shit we do now for normal training.”

“Aw, you’re just a lazy ass, Fig. Go home to your mama and eat your damned alligator crap or whatever the hell you eat,” a blonde-haired, hazel-eyed soldier of undoubtedly Caucasian descent barked back. She scanned him next, noting he was slimmer than ‘Fig’, but not lacking in muscle or the extra inch he had on the Mexican man. His face was better shaved, but his head had more hair. By his slouched stature she figured he was a more “laid-back” type.

Fig glared, _“No hablas así de mi madre, David!”_

“Dude,” a dark-tanned Caucasian sighed, holding his hands out at the Mexican man. “For the last freakin’ time—we don’t speak Spanish. Please, for the love of God, use _English_!”

At first glance she might have thought he had Mexican or Latino blood in him as well, but there was just enough difference that made her think otherwise. His skin was more of an olive color, though his eyes and hair were dark, too. His build was like Epps, but not quite as muscular. He was actually rather short compared to the others—just a few inches over her own head. She noted his nose was bigger than the others, too, but didn’t really seem out of place at all unless you stared too long. He had a charming smile, too, which he flashed at her when the table smiled at his words.

“Besides, I don’t feel all that insulted or threatened when you do that,” “David” smiled, all but screaming for Fig to come at him.

“Okay, calm down guys. You’re not making the best first—er, second impression on Catherine,” Lennox spoke up, and all six of them looked to the red head.

“I’d say she’s doing just fine,” the Asian-oriented soldier hummed from his seat beside her. He was about Will’s height from what she could tell and of similar build, although he looked a bit more toned and had lighter skin. His hair was of similar length to David’s, though looked thicker thanks to its black hue. He had a smart look to him by the shine in his eyes, and she couldn’t help grinning back at him. She had a feeling they would be able to get along.

“So you can stuff it, ‘Commander’,” the sixth soldier—this one Caucasian as well, but with a slight foreign accent. His voice was very deep, which, to her amusement, did not really match his build. Had she not seen him she would have expected somebody huge and stocky—like one of those bodyguard villain thugs from movies, but this soldier was of a normal build, the same height as Epps, and incredibly cheerful. She noted there was a nice, pink scar across his forehead that ran up into his short-shaved, brown hairline. Although his soft, hazel eyes made it difficult to think so, he was rugged looking, although not so much as Fig was.

The ‘Commander’ rolled his eyes, “See, Catherine? This is what I have to work with.”

“Well, it’s still not as bad as Annie,” the redhead mused, and some odds looks were cast in their direction.

“Whoa, dude. What’s going on here?” Epps inquired, jabbing his spoon at the two of them. “You have a wife and kid, man.”

“Epps! What the hell?” the brown-haired man growled, swatting the spoon away.

“Now, now, Epps. Don’t be jealous that Lennox has three wonderful ladies at his house while you’ve got none,” Catherine smiled from behind her glass of water, and a chorus of “oh” went around the table. The black man stared for a moment, but then held out his hand for her to slap, which she did.

“Pretty slick there, girl,” he added, grinning. “Although, I’ll have you know I got a beautiful wife and kids.”

“See? She’s fitting in just fine,” the Asian man smiled victoriously.

“And we all know what that means?” the accented man purred mischievously in way Catherine didn’t really like in regards to her wellbeing. Her sanity could soon be at risk, too.

Lennox rolled his eyes again, “Okay, okay— _No. D_ on’t even think about what you’re thinking. You haven’t even introduced yourselves.”

“What? You forgot us already?” David mockingly gasped as he feigned pain.

“Well, you never told me your names after Mission City except for Epps, and I’ve been busy training at Lennox’s place, soooo… Yeah,” she replied with shrug.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You obviously remember since I’m so cool, but I’ll start it off anyways: I’m Epps,” the black man started, and then looked to his left as the Mexican man.

“You’re as cool as my Papa’s toenails! But me? I’m Jorge Figueroa, ‘Fig’ for short, or _El Maestro de la Muerte_!” the man laughed, and received a few palms smacking into faces and sighs.

David, sitting next to him, went next, “Name’s David Hill, and Jorge here is _just_ ‘Fig’. Guy thinks he’s some badass after surviving a Decepticon attack in the desert and starts calling himself that weird title. Whatever the hell it means. Your turn, Alex.”

“Don’t mind David’s ‘rudeness’. I’m Alexander Petrov. ‘Alex’ for short, of course,” the accented man smiled, bowing his head politely.

 _Russian accented. Nice_ , she mused as the tanned man of mystery-decent took his turn.

“And I’m Anthony Costa, or sometimes ‘the Italian’. As you can see, I am the best looking out of these sorry dogs,” he grinned, and all the others took friendly swats at him as he laughed.

“I’m Jackson Lin,” the Asian smiled once he’d finished his swipe at Anthony, and held out his hand, which she shook. “And no matter what these assholes say, I am _not_ Jet Li.”

She laughed, “It’s great to meet all of you. I’ll try to remember your names, but it might take me a while.”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of time for that, so don’t worry,” the Commander reassured her with a smile.

“Not if we don’t scare her off with training,” Fig hummed, earning him an exasperated groan from David and head shakes from most of the others. Lennox himself rolled his eyes. Catherine, however, met the Mexican man’s gaze and smiled ever so slightly.

“Sorry, ‘Master of Death’, but if Megatron and the ‘Cons couldn’t scare me off then I doubt training will. Besides, ‘Commander’ here already put me through two weeks of it and I’m still here,” she replied, jabbing a thumb in the brown-haired man’s direction.

“¿ _Hablas espa_ _ñ_ _ol, niña?_ ” Fig inquired hopefully as he leaned up.

She shrunk back a little in return, “Er, well, not really. Only enough to say: ‘ _Lo siento. Me espa_ _ñ_ _ol es no muy buena. Sólo tengo tres a_ _ñ_ _os de la clase de espa_ _ñ_ _ol_ ’. I can understand a bit more, but, uh, yeah.”

“Looks like we’ve got our own translator!” Epps grinned. “’Bout damn time, too. I’ve been sick of wondering what the _hell_ this guy has been saying.”

“Oh, shit—what have I done?” she groaned, putting her head into her hands.

“You’ll get used to it!” Anthony called out as he laughed.

“Alright, alright, guys. Calm it down. We’ve only got thirty minutes left to eat. Let her get some food in her, alright? She’s still got to take a look around the human parts of the base,” Lennox interrupted, much to the redhead’s relief who hadn’t actually touched much of her food yet. Not that it was going to be so easy to do that.

“You haven’t yet?” David inquired, eyebrow quirked.

“Er, I’ve been, uh, hanging with the Autobots.”

Alexander leaned forward, wide eyed, “You ‘hang’ with them?”

“Well, she is their ‘liaison’, isn’t she?” Jackson mused.

“My room’s over there, too, and it’s not like they’re all that different from us,” she replied, and then had to roll her eyes as some of them gave her a ‘you’re crazy’ look. “Okay, yes, they’re nowhere near us small, fleshy humans, but I meant their personalities—they’re really great guys to talk and hang with! Okay, well, not _all_ of them, but _most_ of them. And hey—most of you guys got along with them back at the S-Seven base didn’t you?”

“With Ironhide, anyways,” the black soldier shrugged. “The yellow one was pretty cool, too, but he’s off with the kid.”

“Oh, yeah—went to be his guardian, right? Weren’t you and he an item or something?” the blonde-haired soldier asked. Though it was innocent curiosity, it stung Catherine more than she expected. However, it quickly turned to anger as she realized there was any pain at all, but she kept it from her features, beat it down into submission, and thrust it from her consciousness.

“No, we were just friends, and, yeah, ‘Bee’s guarding him back home,” she replied, and one soldier looked at her curiously.

“’Were’?” the Italian asked. This time she felt no pain, but rather confidence as she looked at him.

“We took different paths in lives,” she shrugged.

“Huh. Well, it just seemed like you guys were really close is all.”

" _Seemed” is right_ , she thought bitterly. _Looks like we were both wrong._

“That’s enough,” Lennox barked, his tone commanding and the soldiers stiffened at once. “Now we only have twenty-five minutes to eat. We can all bug her later and during training and free time, okay? But no initiation. I meant it. Don’t even think about asking any of the other women around here, either. Got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes sir’ went around the table and Catherine finally managed to take a bite into her meal. It wasn’t as hot anymore, but it was still good, and as other conversations started up the meal only got better. The soldiers she remembered were just as enjoyable and fun to be around—possibly even more so this time around. Though it was only for twenty-five minutes, it was enough for a lot of their quirks and personalities to come forth.

Already she could see Fig and David were like an old married couple in the way they bickered; Epps was a cool cat not unlike Jazz, though more prone to being annoying or impatient; Jackson was definitely intelligent and capable of biting, yet witty comebacks; Anthony was a bit of flirt—at least in the way he kept casting his flashy smiles at her—and a bit flamboyant, but he was kind, too; Alexander was the most civil of them all, and also a bit quiet, although he would place his input here and there, yet had a good sense of sarcasm and humor. She suspected there was more to be seen from all of them, but it was a good start to work from, and she had a feeling she was going to enjoy training with them.

She also found her thoughts trailing off to darker places sometimes, reaching out to a face she would rather no longer think of. There was no stopping it, though. She could only push it away time and time again, each push keeping it away longer than the last. Still, it continued to return throughout those twenty-five minutes, but it was to be no more when her time was up. Instead, it was overridden by the company of her new team as they turned in their dishes and began their tour of the “rockin’” side of the base, as a few of them called it. While that was up to debate for her, she knew she was going to enjoy it no matter what.

It was beginning to look a lot like paradise. 

\----------------------------------------+

**TMWolf:** _Whelp. No notes this time, just get ready for part 2! xD_


	21. Welcome to Paradise Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To avoid an issue from my FF and Wattpad days: it came to my attention that people have not read the comics and so keep confusing a certain character with another of similar designation. By that, I mean Knock Out.
> 
> Now, you may think it's the designation of our favorite Decepticon medic with the Prime TV show... but he's not. 
> 
> In the LIVE-ACTION MOVIE UNIVERSE/SERIES, KNOCK OUT (make note of the SPACE in the name) IS AN AUTOBOT. 
> 
> So, no, KNOCK OUT is not KNOCKOUT. They are entirely two different characters, just with a very similar name, so the confusion is understandable. However, I have most certainly not made an error in having him as an Autobot motorcycle, and he's certainly not a 'Con randomly made an Autobot without any proper reason ;)
> 
> Now onto the show!

\-------------------------------------------------------------

With a tired, but content sigh, Catherine fell back onto her bed, making sure to avoid her bag. Teletraan proceeded to crawl up and lay on her stomach much like a cat would, purring happily when she stroked him. She was happy, too, smiling like a silly girl as she stared at the ceiling. She had every reason to. For the past three hours she’d been having a blast with her “team”.

“Oh, Teletraan! It’s was soooooo awesome! I don’t even remember having so much fun with _people_ before!” she laughed aloud, disrupting the little drone as her stomach moved. He chirped curiously, and she chuckled. “Sorry. It’s just kind of a big deal for me. I wish you could have joined in, but I don’t think we can play off the shard as how you came to life.”

The drone whirred, accepting the answer, and curled back up, content once more. Catherine smiled and continued to pet him, her mind wandering back into the memories again. Her first impression of the guys had been right, and then they went and added onto it, making it even better.

Figueroa and David were the perfect comedy act, and she was pretty sure they didn’t even realize it. Anytime the Mexican man would speak even a single word of Spanish, the blonde-haired soldier would immediately shout for him to speak in English, pulling them into some kind of argument that ended up with everyone laughing and with the two of them somehow _not_ trying to beat the crap out of one another. They would laugh, too, after a bit of pouting. Despite their “bitterness” she could tell they were good friends along with everyone else. They did have those “tender” moments, of course. “Tender” meaning roughhousing or trying to look better than the other, that is.

The others were tamer than those two, but they all had their own quirks. Epps was like she remembered him. He’d played his “cool” card most of the three hours, but his annoyance would show every once in a while when the guys got a “one-up” on him. Prideful, she figured, but then again, some of the guys in the group _were_ pretty annoying. Of course, she just thought it was funny since it wasn’t happening to her. Granted, she’d learned that Epps had his own baby girls at home—about three of them, to be exact, so she could understand why maybe his patience was pretty thin. After all, Lennox was already whipped and being worn down by just _two_. She meant to ask more about his family, but they were distracted too much, and then he would be off trying to do some playful smack talk or showing off his "swagger".

Anthony, just as she suspected, was a _huge_ flirt, and not just to her. No woman was safe from his flashy smile, but, luckily for them, she received the brunt of it being the only female usually within range. She didn’t remember him being so forward back at the S-Seven base, but she figured it was because she had been preoccupied by other things. She didn’t mind it so much—she thought it was kind of nice to get such attention. That is, until became tiresome. She had played it cool, brushing him off casually, but it was Lennox’s comments and glares that finally put the Italian down. She was pretty sure he’d be back at it soon enough, but she would survive. Besides—they were a professional military group, and, she was sixteen, so it would be well, _weird_ if he actually meant to try anything. Granted, he didn’t know, but still. She was pretty sure he was just fooling around, anyways.

_Well, Jazz. You’re going to be a little busy as my big guardian-bro_ , she hummed, and held a laugh behind her smile as she imagined the white mech standing over her protectively.

Thankfully there was more to Anthony than just flirting, and in that way he was kind of like Alexander. Both men were really more so the quiet type, preferring to watc rather than speaking. When they did, though, whatever came out was generally insightful, helpful, or funny. The Russian-man was especially like that, and she thought he was a very sweet guy. He was also very respectful towards their Commander and to her, although she didn’t think she deserved it yet. Maybe it was because she was a woman, but whatever the case, he treated her like a gentleman would. She had been warned, though, that he could be a mean fighter in training. That she would love to see, but it was apparently going to have to wait until tomorrow.

Lastly was Jackson who definitely didn’t act quite how she expected. He was way too laid back, and she was beginning to suspect he was a bit of prankster. From the way he would smirk or his eyes flash mischievously she was pretty sure he was plotting some joke or trick. It reminded her of a fox at times, and she had to hide her smile at her imagining him with fox ears and a tail from the manga stories she used to read a lot. He thankfully never caught on, being too busy dishing out biting comebacks or funny insults on his teammates. Although he said he wasn’t Jet Li, she couldn’t help but consider him like that; only instead of being a beast at Kung-Fu he was badass as Comeback-Fu.

And to think, she was going to get to train and hang out with these guys! It was going to be _great_! Especially since Lennox would be with them, too! That, along with knowing she was going to be with the Autobots, was almost too much for her happiness meter to handle—she felt like she was ready to explode!

She laughed aloud, “Aw, man—I’m so hyped up I’m not even tired! It’s only like seven so I have an hour before I have to stay here. Ugh! What do I do now? I could unpack, I guess… Oh! I know! Teletraan! Send ‘Sides a text!”

The little phone perked up at once and relayed her message as per ordered, chirping excitedly in response to her own excitement. She played with him, rolling him around and poking at him. His happy whirrs and clicks made her realize he really was like a pet, and that he really was happy. He was content that way. And if that was the case, then she would be happy for him, too. He was fine being just the way he was—her little Teletraan. She wouldn’t worry about him anymore.

Sideswipe replied quickly and with the sarcasm she expected. He’d agreed to hang out with her, though, and would be there soon enough. There was also something about a good spot for them to sit, so that was something nice to look forward to. She thanked the little drone and asked if he wanted to come along. He agreed, so she set him onto her shoulder and stepped outside to wait for the silver mech by her door. Just as he said, she didn’t have to wait long, and soon the sound of his wheels rolling along the metal floor reached her ears. She grinned as he came towards her, and, his demeanor obviously better, he grinned back as he lowered his hand down to her, although it faltered for a moment when he spotted Teletraan. The little ‘bot was accepted in the end, and the silver mech went back to grinning.

“I see you’re in a good mood finally,” she teased once she was safely on his shoulder.

He snorted, “I wasn’t in a bad mood.”

“Then what do you call earlier when you stormed off? Looked like a bad mood to me,” she replied, giving him a raised brow. He rolled his optics as he moved down the hall, curving around the corner.

“I was just annoyed. We weren’t training, so I was bored, and you were busy. I hate being bored.”

She hummed, “Or you were _jealous_.”

“Ha! Please. Me? Jealous? You’ve _got_ to be kidding. You’re lucky I even agreed to hang out with you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep rolling, amigo. Where’s this spot by the way? Anything like before?”

“There’s no grass, but you like looking at the stars, right?”

“Yeah,” she grinned goofily, and continued when he gave her an odd look. “Hey—I just like gazing at them and wondering what’s out there, alright?”

“Okay, okay, jeez. I didn’t even say anything. Anyways, I found this place where they didn’t put up any security lights, so it’s a good view. For you, I mean. Our optics can filter out the lights n’ all.”

“Aww, well, thank-you, ‘Sides! You’re actually a sweet guy—er, _mech_ after all!”

He smirked, as if that was obvious, and pulled down another hall just as the sounds of gunfire went off. He wasn’t fazed, but Catherine couldn’t help peering curiously toward the door to the right. It had vibrated in time with the shots and, as they got closer, she realized it was the hanger door to the training room. She hadn’t thought the Autobots would be using it so late at night, but if the soldiers had different shifts, then why not the Cybertronians, too? She wondered who it was, though, and, as if sensing her thoughts—though more likely seeing her intrigue—Sideswipe answered.

“It’s the triplets. They got back while you were on the human side. They’re training before they recharge.”

She gasped, “Can I meet them?! The only new ones I met were those two wannabe gangsters.”

“Uh, now’s probably not good. They get pretty into it when they’re training.”

“Aww, are you _scared_?”

“You’re attempts to humiliate me are amusing, but futile. Together they can be tricky, but alone they’re easy. Even Arcee can’t take me on, and she’s been fighting longer than I or her sisters have,” he smirked haughtily, but she hardly cared that he was boasting. Rather, her mind focused on something else.

“Wait—did you say ' _she'_? The triplets are _female_?”

“Huh? What? Oh, uh, no, not really. Not how you think it is anyways. It’s just the best translation into your language.”

“Oh yeah… Jazz mentioned you guys don’t have genders like we do. So what are they then?”

“Better ask Ratchet instead,” he replied, and she noticed his demeanor had become subdued. She frowned, wondering what she’d said or done, but didn’t think asking would make things better, so she stayed silent as he made another turn, going right and then left into a hallway where there was only a single hanger door awaiting them. He pulled it open with ease and rolled out onto the “porch”—the name she learned the concrete lining around the base was called—and she found he hadn’t been lying when he said the view was really good. In fact, it was _incredible_ and exceeded the Lennox’s farm by far. Not to mention there was a whole new set of stars she wouldn't recognize in this hemisphere.

“Wow,” she breathed, and Sideswipe finally broke his stupor with a chuckle.

“Did you ever doubt?” he teased as he rolled out to the edge, but went no further. He didn’t need to though, as they were out plenty far enough, and the lack of lights prevented any of the starlight from being hidden. There was a crescent moon, but it hardly touched the scene, allowing the redhead to gaze with wide, curious eyes as she gripped a piece of Sideswipe’s armor tight and stretched her neck back.

“Holy crapola!” she laughed after a minute or so, having turned this way and that to get the whole view. “You know how to please a girl!”

He shrugged, “Figured you’d like it, and it’s a good place to just ‘chill’ or whatever you call it.”

“No kidding! So—I’m guessing you didn’t just bring me out to show me some stars?” she smiled playfully.

“I’m bored.”

She raised a brow, “Oh, c’mon—that’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. What’s eating you, ‘Sides? You’ve been acting weird ever since we got here.”

The silver mech grumbled under his breath, looking out at the black ocean rather than her. She waited patiently, watching his optics and metallic facial features carefully. Though he wasn’t human, she had learned from both Ratchet and her own experience that they could show emotions just as clearly as any human being. From what she could see, he was conflicted—as if trying to decide whether or not to say something.

_Is it like what Jazz said? Is he really just lonely without his brother? Does he just not want to admit that?_ she thought as she felt him shift, his chest vibrating with the intake and release of air through his vents. Again she waited as his optics slowly made their way to meet her eyes.

“What’s… What’s with you and Jazz?”

_Ah. So I was right. He is jealous_. “I guess he never told you, but me and him? Well, it’s like this big-brother-guardian thing. Y’see, me and him met back when Optimus first came and he kind of cheered me up when I was down, and then he sacrificed himself to keep me and everyone else safe. Then I brought him back to life—you know that already—and he kept on protecting me and cheering me up when I needed it. He couldn’t come with me to be my guardian at home, but now I’m here so it all works out.”

The silver mech’s posture didn’t change much; he was still uneasy and worried about her and Jazz. She had a feeling he was concerned the white-armored mech might take her away from him—might take away someone he’d become close to. His worries would be unfounded, although he didn’t quite know it yet.

“Look, ‘Sides... You and Jazz are on two totally different tiers on my, uh, 'relationship' list. He’s like a _brother_ to me, while you’re my _friend_. They’re both _waaay_ different. Besides, Jazz is going to be all busy with being Second-in-Command or whatever, so you and me will have plenty of time to hang out, so don’t think I’m gonna suddenly stop hanging with you, alright?”

The silver mech’s optics brightened some, and the hint of a smile appeared on his face, but was quickly hidden under his normal arrogant demeanor. She grinned and then laughed a little, sitting down on his shoulder. Teletraan, whom had been acting as a patient and silent spectator finally descended from her shoulder to her lap, chirping happily now that the mood was better. Sideswipe remained standing, though, and probably for a good reason that she didn’t ask about. Instead, she put her elbow on her knee and her chin into her palm, gazing out at the ocean and listening to the waves. She let his emotions come through to her as well; wanting to make sure she really had made him feel better.

According to the relief that flowed out from him, she had accomplished her goal. She secretly smiled; glad to know she still had her friend. Jazz really would be busy, she knew, and she didn’t know any of the other mechs and the ones she did know wouldn't be busy as well, so it would be nice to still have someone she knew to hang out with during free time. And, of course, Sideswipe needed a friend, too. He was lonely without his brother, and while she could never replace the mech, she could at least help him stay happy, too. It was the least she could do, and he was fun to be with, so it was win-win.

“Oh, hey!” she suddenly spoke up loudly, realizing something. Sideswipe looked over curiously, and she smirked. “So you _were_ jealous!”

The silver mech balked for a few seconds before attempting to compile some smooth excuse, but the jig was up and she only ended up laughing. It went on through the night, only ending when Teletraan showed her a none-too-happy message from Lennox demanding she come back in and get to bed. Not wanting to make a bad impression on her first day—although it was Lennox, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting it—she had Sideswipe escort her back with a promise they’d hang out later and to just send a heads up. He agreed and gave her a friendly good-bye, leaving her to finally start unpacking and sleep better than usual.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Paradise” faltered a little the next day. She was woken up at five like on the farm, and by Lennox too, though this time he was just knocking on her door rather than shaking her awake. She was then informed she was to meet him out in the “Corridor” that was the large space between the Autobot and Human sides in exactly ten minutes or he’d make her do extra work. That got her moving, rushing to pull on her NEST training gear which had been provided in her drawers before she’d even arrived, and cleaning herself up for the morning. She then nearly sprinted out to the Corridor where Lennox was waiting with one arm on his hip and the other raised up so he could keep his eyes on a watch on his arm. He noted briefly she was on time, and then began to lead her through the human side without another word.

She soon found out where they were headed: an indoor work out area fit with weights and a jogging track. There was already a good deal of soldiers working out, and he quickly sent her to join them, starting first with jogging ten miles. She had hoped he would accompany her, but he instead went to the weights. She kind of understood why—he couldn’t show too much care for her here, but she had hoped they could have jogged like normal. She made do, although felt a little odd around the new guys or girls that she passed or was passed by. They didn’t say anything, so she didn’t either, and was all too happy to finish up and move over to Lennox, whom instructed her to work with the weights. That she wasn’t as uneasy about, although she couldn’t bring herself to use free weights due to the need of a partner and she didn’t know anyone besides Lennox whom she didn’t think was okay to ask.

After that, her Commander took her to breakfast where she saw the rest of her team and was happy to join them. Others were with them this time, too, and by the end of things she was getting along with them. She didn’t really catch their names, but she was pretty sure she would remember their faces, and that meant she might have some company in the exercise room. Thankfully, she wasn’t going to have that issue in the combat training, which was next. For that, she was grouped with her “boys”, as she liked to call them, and escorted to the arena.

It was even bigger and taller than the exercise room, and more cluttered, but not with weights. Rather, there was a small walled off area supplied with gear and guns, which they strapped on, and the rest of the huge room had then been modified to mimic a city area, though lacking super tall buildings, and apparently had mock targets for them to go after along with obstacles. When asked, Lennox explained they borrowed the ideas from old Sector Seven training rooms and called in some really good engineers to whip some things up. Essentially, it was a good way to train soldiers to fight Cybertronians without actually using the Autobots or Decepticons. They did have exercises with their alien companions, but that was for later and when more of them were around. For now, they would settle with fake props and artificial obstacles.

The idea was to send the groups through the city one at a time and on different paths to keep a routine feel from happening, although the engineers apparently modified it every week anyways. The groups would go through, avoiding every obstacle as much as possible and shooting at any “Prop-Cons” that appeared. The main goal was to survive, but there was the minor achievement of killing as many of the enemy as possible. It sounded easy enough, and so Catherine entered into the fray with her team not worrying too much.

That notion ended quickly.

If she ever saw one of the engineers she was going to punch them in the face first and then congratulate them on a damned fine job. Not only did they have individual props and obstacles, but they combined them, too. It had just been explosions and debris at first, simulating fire from the enemy, or random targets that were quickly shot and “gunned down” as shown by their popping back to where they came from. But then they started popping out and the ground around them would explode and all sorts of crazy things that reminded her way too much of Mission City. Needless to say, she was glad for her team, whom helped keep her out of too much trouble, and her gear, which made rolling out of the way and the debris hurt a lot less than in her normal clothes. Regardless, by the end of it she was all-too-happy to cross the finish line and grab the jug of water and towel waiting for her—a kind gesture from the engineers.

All in all she had done well enough on her first go according to the others, as she managed to land quite a few hits and didn’t get knocked out. They assured her she would get better, too, and she was positive she would, but until then she was more than happy to receive her thirty minute break before Lennox took them all out to the running obstacle course. Thankfully that one did not involve explosions or Prop-Cons, but rather just larger obstacles than ones she’d seen in any army show or movie. They were also trickier and took a great toll on her endurance and strength. Her team helped pull her through and she managed to keep on her feet at the end of what felt a million hours of fast jogging.

And then the miracle occurred—Lennox told her she was done for the day. She was surprised at first, until she realized it was actually nearly two in the afternoon. How so much time had passed unnoticed even with the workout she wasn’t sure, but that paled in comparison to the prospect of showering and finally relaxing. Since her liaison and physical training were on separate days, she was going to be free for a whole six hours. Although, it was probably going to be more like five after she let herself get a long shower message.

She was off only by a little bit, and ended up having five hours and twenty minutes of free time. Regardless, she knew exactly what she was going to do, and that was talking with Prime. She hadn’t forgotten their conversation from yesterday, and as she continued to think about it, she began to recall more of her questions about her powers and the Decepticons. She wanted to hear about how he was doing, too, of course, but her curiosity was pulled more strongly by the former, and was the true driving force behind having Teletraan send a message to Prime. The mech then sent the directions to his location to the little phone drone, which served to turn the little guy into a personal guide to a small pad-like area of concrete that was just outside the Autobot Commander's office. It wasn’t decorated or anything, but it was fairly isolated with a great view of the ocean and some palm trees in the distance.

“Greetings, Catherine,” he smiled warmly at her once she came up beside him.

She smiled back, “Aw, c’mon, Prime. You don’t need to be so formal with me. Not when we’re out here on your secret little Prime-pad.”

“Very well,” he chuckled. “I believe the question to ask is...'how is it going'?”

“There you go!” she laughed. “And I’m doing good, although I’m pretty tired after today’s workout. How ‘bout you, Prime?”

“I am… content. It is nice to not have to deal with your human paperwork and government.”

“And annoying Autobots who cause trouble, riiiiight?”

He chuckled again, “Yes, and annoying Autobots who cause trouble. Thankfully, the rest of our troops are doing well, and the other teams will be returning within the week.”

“Really? Where all from?”

“Jolt, Rollbar, and Knock Out will be returning from the States. Ratchet will be glad to have his assistant back, which in turn will stop his complaints,” the Autobot Commander grinned in a way that she’d never really seen him show. It was nice. “Scattorshot, Nightbeat, and Blazemaster will be returning from Europe, and Swerve, Gears, and Evac will be coming from Africa. Arcee, Elita-1, and Chromia have already returned from Japan, and the Twins have not left. I felt it was best for everyone if they stayed. The same is to be said for the Wreckers. They proved unsuitable to interact amongst the human population.”

“Oh wow—so many! When did they all get here? And who are the Wreckers? I know the Twins, and ‘Sides told me a little about Arcee and the other two…”

“To answer your first question, most came in our ship, the _Xantium_ , which is now at the United Stated you call NASA’s launch area and being repaired by the Wreckers. Others came as we did—using our entry forms. For your second question, the Wreckers are three of my best warriors and engineers, though are lacking severely in social skills apparently.”

She couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, “Sorry Prime—I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just you’ve never talked like this! Are you sure you should even be telling me this?”

“I trust you will make good use of it and not reveal the source,” he smiled back, winking ever so slyly. “And it feels good to speak so openly about them to a trusted friend.”

“Ah. I know what you mean, and I’m here whenever ya need me and I promise I won’t tell.”

“You have my thanks, although I do feel guilty for speaking ill of them,” he rumbled, but Catherine shook her head.

“Don’t. You have every right even if you’re the leader. You’re not going to like everybody—that’s kind of a given fact for anybody and anything. Besides, the Twins are _terrible_. But, yeah, don’t worry about it. Besides, there are more important things to worry about.”

“Indeed. Although those ‘things’ seem to have settled down as of late.”

“You mean the Decepticon sighting.”

Optimus Prime nodded, “Yes. I was informed you had questions of the incident, and as both our liaison and more, you have right to know.”

“Thank-you. I really appreciate that. I guess my biggest question is what are they looking for? Is it the Allspark—is it _me_? Or is it the shard? Or do they not know about either and are searching for something else?”

“That we do not know, though we are working hard to figure it out. However, the lack of Decepticons makes that difficult, but it also suggests they are retreating, which means they have not found it or any leads to whatever they desired. I have no doubts they will return, though. The Decepticons do not give up so easily even with Megatron gone.”

“Well, Jazz didn’t really know, but do you remember where the Decepticons were captured? Like, were they near any famous land markings or some peculiar places?”

“Not that we can ascertain. Rather, their movements appear random— as if they do not know where to look. I believe that may be a good sign, though because of it we do not know what they search for. It is troubling regardless. We have already increased security here, and especially near the shard. In this way, if they are after the Allspark, they will go after the shard rather than suspect you.”

“Makes me really glad I came here then. If the ‘Cons found me and I was back home…” she trailed off, shaking her head, and Prime nodded in grim agreement.

“Yes, and it was that line of thinking that helped Ironhide convince Lennox for you to come. Here you can be better protected should you be discovered; although we will do all we can to keep such a predicament from happening. In regards to that, I ask you refrain from using your powers as much as possible.”

“Ratchet said as much, but I think I should still keep working with it. You know about Teletraan already—if I can make him with his pseudo-spark and limited intelligence, maybe I can eventually get to something on your level. I know that’s actually going to make things harder for me, but then your race will have a chance again.”

He turned to her, his optics solemn, “Catherine… Even before the battle in Mission City we were prepared to sacrifice the Allspark and resign to the end of our race in order to save your planet. Though it was you rather than I or the others who destroyed it, the blame is to be shouldered by no one. You need not feel responsible for our fate.”

The redhead looked up at the Prime, gazing at his expression and sensing his emotions. There was sincerity in his words, and she knew he was right. Yet, there were thoughts still lingering in her mind that weren’t unlike a feeling she had known not so long ago, but long enough to not fully recall it.

“Thank-you, Optimus, but I… I want to agree with you, I do, but I can’t. I don’t know what it is, but I just have this feeling that it’s what I’m supposed to do. And even if I didn’t feel this way, why else would I have these powers? Maybe it could just be a freaky coincidence, but that doesn’t seem right,” she replied, looking down at her hands and summoning the lights for a brief moment. “I’ll try and not feel guilty, but I want to keep trying to make one of you—make a _real_ Cybertronian rather than just a simple drone like Teletraan. I don’t want you guys to be resigned to extinction.”

Optimus regarded her, tilting his head ever so slightly as he stared contemplatively. She met his gaze, touching at his feelings to see if she could make sense of his thoughts. She could only clearly make out thankfulness and relief, though she didn’t know for what. She supposed it was because he had hoped she would say what she did and that maybe he did think some of it was her fault, but then she realized how silly of a notion that was. Optimus wouldn’t think such things, and so she pulled away just as he shifted to speak.

“Then I give you permission to train with Ratchet and Jolt, though it would be best if you did so with no one else save Jazz, Ironhide or myself, and only occasionally. If you would like, I will inform some of the other troops—those who can be trusted to remain quiet—of your wielding the Allspark’s power, so that they may be more ready to protect you.”

“That’s all fine by me. I’ll need to talk to Lennox about scheduling, and it might only be once a week considering the work I already have cut out for me, but as long as I can work with it I’ll be happy. I know I can make a true spark—I just need to figure out how.”

“Then we will do just that,” Prime nodded, smiling softly. “Thank-you, Catherine, and don’t feel you must rush yourself. You will have much to learn as a soldier, liaison, and the Allspark, so it will be easy to become overloaded. Furthermore, the others and I wish for you to be happy here. While you may be those three occupations, you are also our friend.”

She chuckled a little, “I’ll try. We’ll have to see how my schedule works out. And thank-you, too, Optimus. Let’s both do our best to keep the world safe and be happy doing it, too.”

The Autobot Commander merely smiled and nodded, and she grinned back like a silly kid. The day had started out difficult, but already she could tell her time here was going to get better and better.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The second day was very misleading. For one, while it was Lennox who woke her up, it was the brown-haired woman—Marissa Fairborne, she remembered— waiting for her outside when she finally came out. That had been a surprise, but the woman was kind and gave a warm “good morning”, before proceeding to escort her to the workout room. The woman stayed with her unlike Lennox, giving her tips on a good workout and helping her with weights. Apparently her workout needed some tweaking, and, by the end of it, she was apparently doing much better. Then it was time for breakfast, and again she was given tips, this time on eating healthy and what would be best for her. She didn’t get to eat with her group, and was, instead, set with a different group of Marissa’s choosing. Things had been a little awkward at first, but the people had been kind and funny, and it didn't long before she was laughing along with them. From there, the brunette took her further into the human area, bringing her to what looked like a make-shift library.

The room was large, but not very, and there were only a few shelves cluttered with not-well-organized books. There were plenty of chairs and some desks around, and it was mostly unoccupied. It took a few steps, but she finally caught sight of two people at the far end of the “library”, reading books. There was also a smaller corner with two large computers that looked like they belonged in her childhood. Marissa pulled her past all that, though, and brought her to a remote area near the back where a desk and two chairs were set up. With a gesture, Catherine sat and waited as the woman brought the other chair around to sit near her.

“Alright, so, I’m guessing it’s obvious, but this is the base’s ‘Library’. It’s not very big or sophisticated, but it suits the needs of the soldiers. Ours especially, as this is where we’ll be studying the material you need to be a liaison. Commander Lennox already gave me a report on what you’ve done, and I watched how you acted before coming here, so I have a good idea of where to start,” she spoke, pulling the strap of the backpack she’d brought with her over her shoulder and setting it on the table. From it she pulled out books on communication skills, business, and problem solving—not unlike what she’d done on the farm.

“You were… testing me this morning?” Catherine asked tentatively.

Marissa nodded right away, “Yes. You responded well to taking advice and changes both small and drastic, and you have good listening skills. Your people skills need work, though. There wasn’t time to put you through problem solving, but we can get to that as we go. We’ll also need to work on your business skills. As the Autobots liaison you won’t just be negotiating amongst the NEST soldiers, but also the government divisions and business as Autobot actions affect them.”

“Oh,” she replied as she twiddled her thumbs beneath the desk. “So, uh, what do we start with?”

“First, don’t use ‘uh’ when we’re talking or when you’re working. It’s unprofessional and makes you look weak. In order to be efficient you must be confident and strong, but not too strong—you don’t want to put off those you’re addressing. Secondly, we’re going to get to know one another, after which you’ll take these books to read.”

The woman pushed the books to her, and Catherine lifted them up to look at them. They weren’t simple little “Liaison-for-dummies” kind of book. No, these were fairly thick and looked very high level. It made her think she would be a complete pro after reading them. That is, if she got through them. The books had to be hundreds of pages thick! Of course, she’d read thick books before, but those were fantasy or science fiction books—not boring educational ones.

“I’ll be giving you more as we continue on, along with my own tests, but for now, let’s get started. I’ll go first,” she began, pausing to straighten and turn to face Catherine directly. “I’m Marissa Fairbourne, temporary liaison for the United States government and teacher to you.”

“I’m u—I mean, I’m Catherine Wolf, liaison-in-training for the Autobots and student to you.”

“Good, though you need to work on posture. Keep your back straight, shoulders back, and chin high. You need to look proud and powerful to make a good impact. We’ll also need to get you proper attire for your duty as well. The normal NEST soldier gear won’t do…”

“Yeah—er, _yes_ , you’re right. By the way… what did you mean by 'temporary'? I kind of assumed you were the actual liaison or something.”

“We need to work on your speech mannerism, I see. You still speak too informally. You’re eighteen so it’s understandable, but we still need to work on it. Regarding your question.. No, I’m not the official liaison. Goodness we’re saying that word a lot… Again, I’m just a temporary until Congress assigns an official one. I was free, so to speak, and they know I’m very good at my job so they hired me.”

Catherine frowned, “Why don’t they just hire you as the official one?”

“Because I’m a liaison for troops in the field. There’s not many of us, I’m one of the best, and the war in the Middle East is still going on strong, so I’m needed there more. I was pulled out temporarily because my safety was jeopardized, but I will be able return once I’ve finished teaching you and they replace me,” Marissa replied informatively, but then smiled a little. “I admit, it would be exciting to get to work at NEST, but my place is with my team out in Iraq. I’m not just a liaison, you know. I’m a soldier, too.”

“Oh wow… Um… Do you have any ideas on who I’ll have to work with? I mean, I figure I will since they’re basically the human representative and I’m the Autobot one.”

The smile turned into a frown, “I’m not positive myself, and my father—he works with Congress—hasn’t been able to give me any word, but there are rumors of Galloway being the choice.”

“Galloway?” she asked, raising a brow and her stomach getting an uneasy knot in it.

“He’s a big pain in the ass. A very efficient and persuasive one at that. He’s also a major advocate of having the Autobots share their weaponry and technology with the United States. Fortunately, both the Autobot Commander and General Morshower remained steadfast and convinced the majority it wasn’t a good idea. And it isn’t. I’ve seen what people do with bigger, dangerous weapons.”

“Well, shit.”

Marissa chuckled, “Don’t worry, Catherine. I’m going to make sure that man won’t stand a chance against you if he’s chosen. We’re going to turn you into a damned fine liaison and negotiator, you hear me?”

“Got it!”

“So, now that I’ve answered you’re many questions… Tell me, what is your relationship with the Autobots?”

_Oh, I’m just their source of life and friend and what not. Nothing big._ “A friend and ally. They’re kind of like family to be honest.”

“That’s good. The Autobots need someone like that. The Commander mentioned most of the soldiers are on good terms with ones like Ironhide or Jazz, but there have been issues with a few like Skids and Mudflap. Speaking of which, have you met them or any of the others?”

“Skids and Mudflap I’ve met and… Well, essentially I ‘bitched’ them out. I haven’t seen them since and I haven’t met the others, though most of them are still out. I plan to meet them all soon, though.”

The woman nodded, thinking, “Good. That’s good. It will help make things easier if you get along well with one side already. You do need to work on your human relations, however. I would suggest making sure you spend equal time getting to know both us and the Autobots. Trust me—it will help with solving problems between the two sides.”

“I figured I was going to have to. Man, it’s going to be hard getting to know everyone,” Catherine sulked, folding her arms.

“Well, I don’t expect you to know _everything_ , but enough to where you can get along with them. You’ll start the day after tomorrow during breakfast. I’ll be with you, so don’t get worried. For now, though, let’s get back to us. What are some things you like to do? Any hobbies?”

Catherine laughed silently in her head, realizing how silly this all kind of felt, just sitting here talking with the older woman. It hardly felt like a lesson at all—rather, it was like they were old friends catching up. It was nice, though, and she liked it. It was a shame it apparently wouldn’t always be like this, but at least Marissa was going to be her teacher. She frankly didn’t want anyone else at this point. She didn’t think they’re be as anyone as cool. Excluding the Autobots, that is.

“Hobbies? Well…” she began, leaning forward as she thought.

It had been a while since she’d told so much about herself to someone. A human someone, anyways, that wasn’t as close as the Autobots or Lennox’s family or a certain other someone she would rather not think of. It was a nice thing, and Marissa was a genuinely interesting woman. She was kind and funny, and Catherine could not wait to start learning from her. And learn she would, but not until the hours had gone by, and the woman had instructed her start reading the first five chapters of each book. While prospectively boring, she would do it. She had to become a good liaison if she wanted to do well at her job and contend with men like Galloway, and these books and Marissa’s methods would be the ones to do it.

And that, mixed with her training to make her stronger, her practice with Ratchet to hone her skills, and her time with her new friends and family, made her day and the days to come seem all the better and she hoped that it would never end.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _And that's that!_ _A little bit of fun around with the Autobots and a quick look into her workout schedule. I put it here now, so I wouldn't have to explain it all out later. Oh, and I stand by the "simulated" training in that it's possible with Energon. In the Veiled Threat novel, Ironhide mentions that it's very volatile and even has them in cubes, so I figure its usable and Ironhide knows to use it, so yeah. There you go. It saved time~ Also, I'm pretty sure I have a time skip coming up next chapter. It's that or the one after. Lotta time skips within 'bout 8 chapters, but then we slow down after a pinnacle moment :) Anyways, here's the cast list of Autobots at Diego Garcia (or will be soon) so far, and all are canon or toys from the movie toy line:_

_1) Optimus Prime, 2) Ironhide, 3)Jazz, 4) Ratchet, 5) Jolt, 6) Sideswipe, 7) SKids, 8) Mudflap, 9) Arcee, 10) Chromia, 11) Elita-1, 12) Blazemaster, 13) Evac, 14) Gears, 15) Knockout, 16) Roll Bar, 17) Scattershot, 18) Nightbeat, 19) Swerve._

_Dang, that's actually a lot of Autobots... And that's not including the Wreckers who are at NASA and Bumblebee who's with Sam. Looks like I've got a lot to work with, ho ho~And then well, crap, I have more coming, so hmmm... Lots of to work with. Oi vey! xD_

_And yes, Optimus finds the Twins annoying. I make it so. I mean, sure, he's Commander, but he's still a mech with likes and disliked, and, I mean, who_ doesn't _find them annoying? It's like they're Spongebob and everyone is Squidward but with better temperament. So yeah, and uh, that's about it. I'll try to better about the next update! :)_


	22. Bad Moon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, a big heads up: TIME SKIP. I know, I know- so many time skips! But I do have a lot of time to get through and a lot of what happens in the two months is, well, boring learning/practice crap, so I didn't want to have to bore you guys with that. 
> 
> There will be another time skip, this one even longer, but I give my word that it slows down a LOT after that. Some major things need to happen and I didn't want to have to take 50 chapters to get to them. Also, it keeps certain things secret that I want to stay that way ;)
> 
> Anyways, so yes, time skips galore, but soon it will slow down and we can focus more on characters and ideas I want to incorporate and not have to bring up and explain again later unless need be~

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_Two months later....._

For what felt the millionth and certainly not last time, Catherine was beginning to regret having made Teletraan. She loved him, really she did, but she _detested_ the damned sound of his blaring alarm. She had been having a wonderful little dream about some Cybertronian’s memories, as she had for the past week, and then _bam_ —she was jerked awake because the little guy was trying to blow out her ear drums. If there was any good news, it was that it was Sunday, which meant she would get to work with Ratchet instead of Lennox or Marissa.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like working with them, because she did—in a way. But her exercises with Ratchet were more exciting, intriguing, and in tune with what she was positive was her true calling. Sure, the constant workout had already made her so much stronger in almost two months’ time, and all the work with her liaison-teacher had done wonders for her people skills and knowledge, but she was by far more interested and happy with her progress with her powers, although it wasn’t much.

“I’m up! I’m up!” she growled, waving the little drone off as she slid out, pushing her wild hair back down. He silenced his alarm, but scurried after her into the bathroom to make sure she went through her daily routine. He even put a timer on his chest screen, letting her know she had thirty minutes to get to training. While it was her day to work with Ratchet, Lennox stressed she had to work out _every_ day. That was fine, and she understood, but she sometimes really wished she could have a night schedule like some of the other soldiers instead of five-thirty in the morning. She took relief knowing that, unlike normal bases, she didn’t have to deal with the lining up thing in the morning. Lennox had told her there just wasn’t time, and the schedule at NEST was made so that someone was always working, so it would conflict with everything.

_Ugh. Just get dressed and get going. You’ll be in the Medbay soon_ , she rumbled silently, slipping on her workout gear after she’d tied back her hair and brushed her teeth. Waving goodbye to Teletraan, she hurried off, no longer needing the aid of Lennox or an escort to get around. She passed by a few of the Autobots and waved to them too, having gotten to know them already. Some she was still working on in regards to smaller details like their likes or dislikes, but she at least knew all of their names. They were all fairly decent so far.

She waved to any humans she passed by, too, having become friends with a good amount of those that had the same shifts as she did. They were all pretty nice, although some she'd noticed weren’t exactly thrilled about her being there. It was generally in just the way they would occasionally glance at her or the snarky comment played off as witty remarks, but she’d figured it out. Thankfully, there was only a few, and she made sure to act civil around them and make friends with as many people other than her group as possible. She had quite a few names down, and was getting to learn more about them. It helped that Marissa drilled her nearly every lesson, forcing her to make sure she got to know them.

If there was anything good about it besides having possible allies in a conflict, it gave her workout buddies in the training room. It was nice to have some small talk when jogging or lifting weight and it also helped her learn about more of the soldiers. Breakfast was a good place for that as well, and she often found herself sitting with people other than her group more than once. That had gotten her a few mock-jealous comments from her companions, but it was all in good jest, and they still had her back on their training days.

Regardless, she was also happy to finally make her way back to her room, clean up, pick up Teletraan, and head down to the Medbay. Again, she ended up waving at the Autobots she passed by. Now that all the new teams were back, it was almost impossible to not encounter one of them. She used to always catch them by surprise, but they had learned very quickly to watch where they put their feet after Ratchet had nearly blown out their audios for almost stepping on her once. By the way Jazz had been scowling that day, she was glad it was the medic who had found them and not her guardian. She didn’t think they’d still be in once piece.

“Mornin’, Catherine!” one of them called out happily.

“Good Morning, Knock Out,” she smiled back, recognizing the small, lime-green-armored Autobot. He beamed at her acknowledgement and smirked at the blue-armored mech next to him that she knew was Gears. The mech merely rolled his optics at his younger companion, whom was all too happy to prove how more well liked he thought he was. It hadn’t taken long for her to find out that Knock Out was one hell of a show-off. He was especially bad when he was paired with the Triplets—Arcee, Elita-1, and Chromia—who all shared the similar alternate form of a motorcycle. He couldn’t compare, but he would never admit it and always tried to outdo them. She pitied him a little with how desperate for attention he acted sometimes, but she also thought he was being kind of cute, too; acting like a little kid wanting praise from the adults.

Gears, on the other hand, was content with his place, which was complaining about it. She had first thought he really was unhappy, which had made her think he was a little annoying, but Jazz informed her on the side that he complained all the time because everyone thought it was funny, and, in a way, it _was_. The short, but stocky blue-armored mech was a damned fine comedian when it came to complaining. He was a nice guy, too, and polite when he wanted to be. He’d also somehow ended up Knock Out’s “best friend”. While he told everyone it was because he’d accidentally praised the kid too much, Catherine had a feeling it was because the much smaller motorcycle mech was comedy material gold.

She shook her head with a smile as she heard the younger mech spout some great deed to Gears, and continued on. She knew the way by heart now, and also where every mech’s room was. For instance, she knew Evac’s was to her right just around the corner. He was always in the room closest to the humans’ side due ton his concern with the safety of the soldiers to the point it was unhealthy. He'd actually gotten so bad he caused some problems when he’d suddenly bolted—as in, he flew through the halls in his helicopter form—to “save” some humans from their training session. He was quickly told what was going on, and there hadn’t been an incident since. He was a little overly friendly at times, but he was alright.

“Okay… Almost there… Just don’t encounter anymore Autobots, _especially_ the Twins and you’ll be okay,” she mumbled to herself as she increased her pace.

For whatever God-forsaken reason, the Twins had been given shit-for-brains and were now seemingly _infatuated_ with her or something, and were always trying to hang out with her or just be around her in order to talk with their stupid accent and try to impress her. It. Was. Ridiculous. And annoying. She couldn’t even count the number of time she had to get Jazz, Ratchet, or Sideswipe to come rescue her from them because they wouldn’t leave her alone! They sometimes even followed her over to the human side, freaking out most of the soldiers and making life much harder for her. Thankfully, Prime had put a stop to that, but now they’d doubled their efforts to hang out with their “girl”—she hated when they called her that—when she was on the Autobot side.

Thankfully, this Sunday she was not going to be bothered by the infernal, rusty-colored Twins, and she made it to the Med Bay doors without trouble. Since the Autobots used the hanger rooms now, it was basically humanly impossible to open the doors except, so Ratchet had kindly made it so that the door was always opened a little. It allowed her to slip in quietly while the medic and his aid, Jolt, ran scans on the Triplets. She was pretty sure Jolt has already noticed her, as his sensors were much better at detection, but the electric-blue-armored mech didn’t lift his head to look in her direction while he scanned the teal form of Chromia. Ratchet was busy with the pink one, Arcee, but Elita-1 was free, her purple frame balancing smoothly on her one wheel so the redhead made her way over and stood beside the “Femme”—the Cybertronian term for her type.

“Today was your daily check-up, huh?” she asked, and the Autobot—only about twice her size as compared to the towering figures of “Mechs” besides the occasional exception—glanced down at her, blue optics bright.

“Yes, but we’re almost done,” Elita-1 nodded. “He’s still upset over our accident in the training room.”

“Ah. Well, you guys did mess up some of your wires, right?”

Ratchet answered for her gruffly, “And nearly blew their leg unit off, too! You’re lucky you’re Femmes and have an enhanced healing system or you wouldn’t be leaving here so soon!”

“We said we were sorry, Ratchet,” Arcee sighed, but then shrunk a little when the medic’s hard gaze fell on her. She was the boldest of the three, though knew when to back down. It woudln't keep her from doing it again later, but, although it made her rash, it also made her fearless. She wasn’t even afraid to go up against Ironhide or Prime alone. Ratchet was another story, of course, as no one could brave his wrath. She was also seemingly the youngest and easiest to get along with. It was kind of like the sister she never had; only there were two other versions that came with her.

“If you mean it, then you’ll do us both a favor and not use maximum power on your cannons,” Jolt stated quickly, no doubt to keep his mentor from shouting something crude. “That means you especially, Chromia.”

His teal-armored patient grinned, and Catherine could see why she and Ironhide got along well. _Very_ well, according to rumors. Apparently some “things” were going on between the two of them, but they were very discreet and only ever seemed to be training or occasionally talking with each other. Granted, both of them had night duty together and Catherin was asleep then, so she couldn’t be sure, and the other bots were tight-lipped about it.

“We’ll do our best,” Elita-1 replied, the most sensible of the three. Unlike her sisters, she was not prone to over-excessive force and was always able to keep her calm. She was considered the level-headed one of the bunch, and she fit her role well. It was namely her actions or words that kept Chromia from blowing the whole base to smithereens, and held Arcee back when she wanted to rush in too blindly. Obviously, that made her the leader, and, as if cementing the idea, Catherine had caught her and Optimus speaking together in a not-so-formal way more than once.

“Slagging right you will. I don’t want to see you in here unless it’s because of a Decepticon attack, you hear me?” Ratchet growled, jabbing a finger at all three of them now that he was done scanning.

“Roger,” they replied in unison, and Arcee and Chromia hopped down to join their third member. Both of them smiled down kindly at Catherine, touching her shoulders gently, and then rolled out the door. She smiled after them, but turned back to the two medics once they were gone. Jolt was nearest and so lowered his hand to her. Like always, he was gentle and careful as he lifted and set her onto one of the tables. It was kind of ironic how careful he was with her, when he was really a bit of prankster and a dangerous fighter. She’d heard many tales of his tricks on the younger mechs or those around his age. Thankfully, it was always outside the Medical Bay, and she suspected it was due to the demanding tutelage of Ratchet. Of course, that just made her wonder how the hell a prankster that fought like a crazed Mech in battle would take up repair work. Luckily, he was happy to tell her it was because his electrical abilities suited the profession and he figured the Autobots could use more medics. Apparently that was good enough, and he was doing a good job. Even Ratchet had secretly admitted as such to her secretly.

“Alright, so did you guys finish making that thing you were talking about?” she asked, clapping her hand together expectantly.

“Just yesterday in fact. Go grab it, will you, Jolt?” Ratchet nodded, gesturing at his assistant without looking. The electric-blue mech merely grunted and moved off to the side, rummaging through a pile of various items.

“How are my little guys by the way? Not causing you any trouble?” she inquired, glancing around for the “little guys” in question.

“They were getting mischievous, so I had them placed in a container. Thankfully they’re not smart enough to figure out how to get out,” the medic hummed, his optics glanced over to one of the large closet-like structures in the room. Catherine followed his gaze, balked, and smacked her palm to her face.

“You locked them up in the closet?! Ratchet! What the hell?” she growled, placing her hands angrily on her hips. “I know they’re not as good tempered as Teletraan, but that’s no reason to lock them up! You just have to discipline them! That’s what I do and they listen to me!”

“You are also their creator,” the mech snorted back as Jolt returned and placed the “thing” she had asked about near her. “They are already inclined to obey your commands.”

“Ugh! You’re just a grump! Jolt, please let them out,” she sighed, rubbing her brow. The mech glanced at his mentor, whom nodded begrudgingly, and he moseyed over to the closet. He opened the door and lifted out a container holding two little Cybertronian drones scurrying around inside. The container was soon by Catherine’s side, whom opened it and gladly accepted the drones into her arms.

Like Teletraan, they had limited intelligence, were more like pets, and had been made from her electronic devices. The first had been her PlayStation Portable, whom she named Blaster since the first thing he did was blast music at them. He was actually bit more intelligent than the others; able to perceive their language to a higher degree and form sentences by using the music she had on him before the change. The second was her Gameboy, which was about the same size as Teletraan, but not as smart. She’d ended up naming him Cybermon in regards to the Pokémon game she’d left in him and had become his form of mostly incomprehensible communication. Like their eldest “brother”—she liked to consider them related—they didn’t have true sparks, which was what had brought the two medics to building the machine beside her.

“Now that my little boys are liberated,” Catherine began, spinning around to face the box-shaped machine, “what’s this contraption supposed to do?”

“Well, since we want actual Cybertronians rather than your little glitches running around everywhere, we need to make sure you can make a real spark,” Ratchet explained, ignoring the glare the redhead gave him. “This box here will absorb the Allspark energy you put into it, but instead of becoming a drone, it will retain the energy, forming it into a spark. We used to have many of these on Cybertron in the Hatchling facilities for when we didn’t have an Energon sack yet ready to house and form a frame around it. It keeps the sparks intact and safe until they’re transferred. Granted, it’s not up to Cybertronian standards, but it should work just fine.”

“Nice. So do I just touch it like I’ve been doing, or…?”

The medic nodded, “Yes. It’s the same process; you’re just only making a spark. If you’re both ready… Jolt, prepare your whips.”

The electric-blue mech stepped forward, shifting his left arm’s armor to reveal the whip hidden underneath. He wrapped it around his arm so it didn’t hit the floor and leaned it towards her. He was thankfully immune to his electrical powers, so he had no problems activating the electrical pulses that lit his arm up. She’s been a little put off when she first tried to use it—in part because it was Autobot-generated electricity and because she’d been worried about what taking the energy from him might do. However, Ratchet’s assurance and actually going through the process without any side effects helped, and made her confident as she set the two drones down before reaching out and grasping the whip.

Energy coursed through her at once, filling her with power and slowly heating her up. It was a familiar process she had done every Sunday for the past two months, and, just as she was reaching her limit, she let go. Her body was lit with the bright, blue light of Energon-infused blood in her veins, and her irises were nearly blue-white due to the influx of energy needing to be released. She wasn’t going to deny it, and so pressed her hands onto the box, urging the energy into it. Sparks flared from her body, latching onto the device, and she could feel it flooding into the contraption.

She watched as the energy began to pool into the center, forming a sphere of pure, white light. It was small, at first, but as more energy was pushed into it, the larger it became. It flickered and shook as it grew, verging on instability. However, as the last of the energy left her, and the sphere stopped growing, it became stable. The glow in her veins faded, and she gazed curiously at the now blue-white orb in the box. She’d only ever seen sparks in the chest of her Cybertronian companions, never fully exposed, but with the box she could see it thrumming with energy. Though it had no mind or body to accompany it, she could feel the spark—could sense it reaching out to her.

“Alright, let’s see if it’s any different,” Ratchet hummed, no longer fazed by her powers, and ran a green light over it. Jolt was not quite as stolid, still getting used to the fact she—a mere _human being_ —was now the remnants of their Allspark and could create smaller and far less intelligent forms of their kind. He was doing much better, though, and hadn’t said a word or acted odd around her at all. She knew it was in part Ratchet’s doing, but she had a feeling he understood the situation very well and that having her secret readily known was a bad thing.

The medic sighed, “It’s still wrong. Since it’s not supporting a body it’s able to retain a large size, but the waves are still off. They’re random like before, and don’t show any proper characteristics. That makes the fourth one…”

“What could be wrong?” Jolt inquired, looking over the information on his own data screen once his mentor had sent it to him. “The original Allspark could make a spark without issue and it wasn’t a sentient being.”

“Maybe that’s the reason,” Catherine frowned, reaching out to touch the surface of the box. “From what you’ve told me, the Allspark seems like it was already programmed to make right sparks. I’m not. Hell, I’m still learning about how you guys work!”

Ratchet’s optics flared a little, “That… just might be it… Perhaps it’s random…”

“Because she doesn’t know the makeup of a proper spark?” Jolt finished, and his mentor nodded.

“Well, then how am I supposed to learn? Don’t suppose you’ve got a diagram or something?”

“All my datapads were left on Cybertron, but it will be easy enough to build a makeshift one,” Ratchet mused, shuffling over to one of his work benches.

“Want to save the spark?” Jolt asked, but his mentor shook his head.

“Even if we did have the proper tools for making hatchlings, the spark wouldn’t work. It might, at best, support a larger drone—perhaps close to the size of the Triplets—but still a drone. Just release the energy.”

Jolt nodded and, with an ease that unsettled Catherine, he opened the box, allowing the blue spark to suddenly begin flickering again. It was an odd and uncomfortable for her to watch it dissipate into the air—like she watching something die. She could sense it; feel it on her skin. Ratchet’s logic was sound and the spark was a failure, but it didn’t override the sadness overcoming her. Not even knowing it was her Allspark side could quell the overwhelming sensation. It only lasted as long as the spark remained, however, and once all of it vanished into the air, she was at peace once more.

“So is that what happens to uncontained sparks?” she asked, and Jolt turned to her, his expression suddenly softening. Whether he understood how she had felt, she didn’t know, but he was kind in how he spoke.

“Yes. If a spark is not placed within a container like this one or a hatchling sack, then it would dissipate as Energon into the air.”

“So were a lot of potential lives lost then?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully, “Well, in a way, I suppose, but not quite. Sparks are just our template and energy source. A good example for you would be to call it a battery; the size and amount of energy dictates what kind of frame it can handle. All in all, it’s _just_ a compilation of energy. Only when it’s reacted with Energon does a hatchling begin to form.”

“I see,” she hummed, though wasn’t quite convinced. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wrong. And when she looked to her two newest creations, the notion only became stronger. Looking at them also brought a thought to mind. “Wait—if it required Energon to make hatchlings, then how are these guys alive? I know they’re just drones…”

“Well, it’s never been seen or officially recorded, but there were legends of the Allspark creating full Cybertronians—spark, body, mind, and all—instead of just sparks. No one knows the full depth of the Allspark’s power, so it’s possible you’ve awakened its ability to do so, albeit on a much smaller scale.”

“It should also be known those legends predate back to the era of the Primes, when the Allspark was at its greatest. In our age it was much weaker and had less energy, which was likely the reason for it only giving sparks,” Ratchet added, returning to them.

“What are the other reasons?” Catherine asked, and the two mechs glanced at one another.

“Well,” the head medic began, “it was often rumored that the Allspark was, well, sentient in its own way, but there’s never been any proof and it’s always been considered a silly thought.”

“But wasn’t it Sentinel Prime who suggested that?” Jolt asked, and the medic frowned.

“Yes, I was there when he told us. A shame you weren’t created before his death.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait guys—who is Sentinel Prime and why does he have the same last name part as Optimus?”

“Ah, you must have forgotten from when Optimus told you, but it has been some time,” Ratchet mused. “Sentinel, like Optimus, is of the lineage of Primes. He was our leader in the time when we were a race of tribes. It was Sentinel who found the Allspark. No one knows how he knew where it was—just that he did. He always seemed to understand it so well; like he had some connection with it. He was wise in many other things, of course, but the Allspark especially. If only he were still with us…”

“How did he die?”

“He was attempting to put an end to the war in our favor when his ship was attacked by Decepticons and destroyed.”

“That’s terrible,” she frowned, and both Autobots looked down solemnly. It came more strongly from Ratchet, obviously having known the great mech. She did finally remember Optimus talking about him back at the Sector-Seven base, and she could recall the deep sadness he gave off when he spoke of his mentor. However, like their Commander, both Autobots were quick to withdraw their emotions and recover. Ratchet did so by setting a rectangular device reminding her of a large tablet on the table and pressing a button near the center of the bottom.

Catherine’s eyes widened as a hologram of all things popped up, and in the spherical shape of a spark no less. It even rotated, giving a three-sixty view of the object. She marveled and reached out to touch it, but her fingers passed through. She could feel heat on her hand though, coming from the light the device gave off.

“Your technology is still very primitive, so it’s not at Cybertronian standards, but it will do. If only I’d been able to bring the datapads from my Medical Bay on Cybertron then you’d be able to better interact with it,” the medic huffed.

“No, this is fine. I think. It’s incredibly detailed, though I don’t really understand it,” Catherine hummed, trailing a hand along one of the specific wavelengths. Now that they were blown up to large size, she could see the individual lines—the wavelengths—that made up the spark. It reminded her a little of the steams of binary code from the Matrix, only blue, made of energy, and running around a sphere rather than straight up and down.

“As you can see,” Ratchet began, pointing at the same line she’d touched, “it’s as I’ve said before: Sparks have wavelengths made from energy. We call it Energon, although a different kind than what we consume. The wavelengths are like your DNA—they have a code that the Energon sacs react to and began to form a frame in accordance to that code. All sparks follow a similar pattern in their code placement, although the codes are all different. For instance, this wavelength I’m pointing to is the one for central processer potential. This one beneath it is for frame size, and this one for armor strength.”

“I… I think I get it,” she replied slowly, trying to imagine it in her head. “So, you’re positive all sparks have wavelengths in these positions?”

“Affirmative. All _normal_ , _healthy_ sparks, at least. Cybertronians that were flawed would have misplaced wavelengths, much like in the case of your drones. Their wavelengths are all over the place with only some of them in the right spots, which led to their small intelligence, size, and capabilities.”

“Okay… Um… I’m going to look over this a lot more and then we can try again. Sound good?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the spark.

“That works fine. We need to prepare our weekly report, anyways, so take your time, and—Oh slaggit all! Those damned creations of yours are at it again!” the medic howled, jabbing a finger at the two small drones quietly slinking towards the medical machine at the end of the table.

Catherine sighed as she turned and set her hands onto her hips, “Cybermon! Blaster! What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing!”

Both drones immediately froze and turned back towards her, their heads low. She gave an “mmhmm” sound, and they slowly, but obediently, sulked back, their mischievous curiosity put to an end. Ratchet, the danger passed, turned away with a grumble and then called for Jolt to follow. The electric-blue mech spared the drones a glance and a grin before following after his mentor, leaving the redhead to tend to her creations and studies.

“C’mon, guys—you know better! No messing with Ratchet’s things! It’s what you got in the Closet in the first place!” she scolded. “I know you want to be with me and Teletraan, but you escaped last time and nearly got caught, so you have to stay here for your own safety. Now please behave while I study the sparks, okay?”

Cybermon made a Pokémon sound, while Blaster gave a sad “yes” from some random song, and she knew they would behave. They were very upset, though, so she let them climb up to her shoulders to cheer them up. It worked, the two drones scurrying up to grasp at her NEST gear and content to lay there as she watched the spark hologram rotate, tracing every wavelength she could see. She had to wonder how she would force her powers to work right. Did she simply have to think about it, or did it require something more? She remembered when she’d healed Bumblebee she had based it on her thoughts, so perhaps that was the way to do it, but, then again, this was different. With Bumblebee she hadn’t even seen the inside and yet the sparks from her body had done everything, but when she tried to think of a spark, it just didn’t work. She had made a spark before with Jazz, though, so what was wrong?

_Ugh. I bet Jazz could help if he was here_ , she sighed, tracing another wavelength. Unfortunately, the white mech had left last week on a reconnaissance mission to the United States after NEST had been contacted about possible activity. He hadn’t gone alone, and it so happened that Sideswipe and Ironhide were his partners. Evidently the situation was possibly dangerous enough to call for their hard hitters and taking away her two favorite mechs. Sure, she’d found companionship with the other Autobots and her human friends, but she did miss those particular three. At least it would only be for a few more days.

There was no point in wishing things had been different, though, and she knew she’d have to get on without him for now. Not that he would even tell her anyways. He was always so cryptic when it came to these things, and while she trusted him when he said he did so for a reason, she wished he would at least give her a hint or something!

“Well, I think I’ve got it. Guess we should see what I can do then,” she spoke softly to her two creations, which made their own comforting sound for her as she set them down. “Ratchet! Jolt! Let’s try round two!”

Teacher and student turned from their counting, then put down another one of their makeshift datapads and walked over. Jolt was already ready, his whip still out from before, and so he held out his arm. The whip burst to life and she touched it, the energy filling her just like before. She absorbed a bit more this time, though, and winced a little as the heat seared against her insides. She knew she would be alright—while her powers had caused the burn, it would also heal it once she released the heat. She kept the pain away from her mind as she reached out to the box, focusing it on the image of the spark. She thought of each and every wavelength; where they were placed; how they flowed. She knew she had it perfectly in her mind, and so let loose the energy within her.

The process was done in seconds and in the box was another thrumming spark. Again she felt it seemed to be reaching out to her, but she stopped the sensation instead of letting it go on this time. Ratchet scanned it, but, despite her high hopes, he shook his head.

“What? Are you kidding me?” she shouted, raising her arms up high and then sagging down. “I swear I had it! It was in my mind and everything! What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, if it helps, it’s much closer than the one before, but it’s still not quite right. The wavelengths aren’t aligned right. Everything is there, though…”

“God dammit…” she scowled, running a hand through her hair.

“Don’t worry, Catherine. You are getting much better,” Jolt spoke, smiling gently, and she did smile back, although it wasn’t fully there. “Maybe we just need to look back on what you’ve done before. You’ve made a spark once before after all.”

“Yeah, but like I’ve said before, I don’t really know how it happened. It just… I just somehow knew how to do it and it happened.”

“I’m not surprised. You were in a transe-like state. You didn’t even realize you were sucking Energon from me,” Ratchet scoffed, still a little sore about it. However, instead of continuing on with his usual reminder rant, he stopped. Both human and Autobot watched as the medic’s processor began to run a million miles a second with revelation. Soon he was tapping his chin, his optics growing wider as he thought. Jolt and Catherine shared a look, still waiting for what he had in mind. They would have to wait a little longer, as the medic brought up the data screen on his arm and ran through list after list until he found the right one. Then he stared at it long and hard, searching for something. When he at last found it, his optics brightened more and he turned to them with purpose.

“It wasn’t just my stores you took from,” he began, his words quick at first, but then he settled down as they gave him confused looks. “Back then, when you took Energon from me to revive Jazz, it wasn’t just from the Energon stores we have in our bodies. I didn’t realize it because it wasn’t noteworthy, but you took from my spark, too. It’s just a theory—a very theoretical one, at that—but perhaps you need to touch or borrow from one of us to make a new, true spark.”

“It could be,” Jolt added, his processor moving fast, as well. “Every time she’s made a spark, she’s only used electricity from a generator or from my whips. Though, how much did she exactly take? And how you were you not affected?”

“The wavelength of a spark can’t be changed by means of energy loss once its set. It would take a virus of some sorts to do so. Otherwise, energy drain merely lowers the support capabilities. It’s why we have to refuel on Energon. It allows our sparks to continue supporting our frames.”

“Guys, wait—are you saying if I ‘borrow’ from one of your sparks, I can make a genuine Cybertronian spark?” Catherine asked, hope growing.

Ratchet nodded, “I believe so, yes. I think, you need to borrow the information from an existing spark, and then your powers must be editing the code, as Jazz has shown no changes. Of course, his code would have remained within the making of his frame, so the spark could have pulled from that.”

“Is… Should we… Should we try it? I mean, I’ve borrowed energy from sparks before. I remember when I did so from Jazz…”

“I think we should give it a try, Ratchet. We’re already so close, and no repercussions have been suffered, right?” Jolt asked, and the medic nodded.

“Yes. If you’re up to it Catherine, you’ll borrow from mine.”

The redhead nodded, “I am.”

“Very well. Jolt; let her take most of the energy from you first. Afterwrad be alert and watch for anything. Nothing should go wrong, but I want you ready when she touches my spark.”

The electric-blue mech nodded and activated his whips. Catherine touched them again and let the energy fill her, pulling away when she felt she had enough. Then it was Ratchet’s turn, and he pressed as close as possible to the table, lowering his chest to her. The bumper of his alternate form shifted and moved, revealing a circular opening lit with a blue glow. She recognized it as the spark box and the glow as his spark. Already she could feel the Energon coming from it and could feel the emotions tied to it. Despite his confident claims, she could sense he was a little nervous, and so was she. Still, they had come this far, and couldn’t back down now. Sharing a quick look with the medic, she reached out and touched the outer edge of it.

Unlike with Jazz, she felt no energy moving into her, and she knew it was because she had not willed it. She could, however, feel his thoughts and emotions more clearly, and could see his memories in her mind’s eye. They went by too fast to focus upon, and she pushed them aside for what she really wanted—the information to create a true spark. And she found it, or, she was pretty sure she had. It felt like she did, anyways. She could see a code running through her mind, althought while it was of the spark at her fingertips, it was also different and becoming more so with every second.

When she felt she had found all she needed, she pulled away, and noticed she felt different. She didn’t feel hot anymore; in fact, the heat was completely gone. At first, she thought the energy was gone, too, and had perhaps gone into the medic, but her arms still glowed and the medic looked unchanged as he moved his chest plates back together. She focused, and found the power still within her; still thrumming with readiness to be used. She turned to the box, but she just knew that wasn’t what she needed this time. No, she needed something else.

“Ratchet, do have some machine you don’t mind not having? Something not too big?” she asked quickly, her fingers beginning to tingle.

The medic opened his mouth to speak, but promptly shut it as he realized what she was getting at. He nodded only once then turned to the closet, shuffling through it and throwing anything that didn't meet his needs out of the way. He finally pulled out a machine that reminded her of some kind of turret braced on four short legs.

“This was left here from before we came. I suspect it was an unfinished mounted gun of some kind, but I have no use for it,” he explained as he set it down before her.

It stood about a foot taller than her, but that wasn’t a problem as she set her hands on its yellow surface, closed her eyes, and willed the energy into it. Sparks flared at once and an image she would have never thought of appeared in her mind. Even stranger was the white, wasteland-like place that appeared, and yet she knew that place. If only it had lasted longer, then she might have been able to place it, but it was only for a moment and then it was replaced by the image of the machine changing. Though her eyes were closed she could see it—deep within the mounted gun a spark was forming and beginning to shift the metal around it. The legs it stood on became longer and thicker, particular the back ones. The taller shaft where the gun was attached to lowered while the body elongated. The thicker part on the opposite end to the gun began to expand and curve, forming sockets for optics and molding into an oddly beast-like shaped head. When she felt the last of her power leave and the image fade, she opened her eyes and pulled away.

“By the Allspark!” she heard Jolt gasp, and a similar phrase, although to a different higher power, went through her mind. The creature before her was vastly different from her other creations. For one, it didn’t have a humanoid shape, but rather that of a lion or some other big cat. The mounted gun had become like a tail, its legs had become like real feline-like ones, and the rear had formed a head with a thick “mane” around the neck. The metal creature’s optics flickered once, then burst to life and it began to move. First it shook its head, sending the movement down its body, and then opened its mouth in a yawn. Seemingly satisfied, it turned its gaze onto Catherine and smiled, revealing metal fangs.

“Hello, Creator,” it spoke with a male, metallic tone to its voice.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, and the metal lion tilted its head as it sat down on its haunches.

“She… She did it… Right?” Jolt asked, looking to Ratchet for answers. The medic jerked back, having been just a baffled, and then moved closer to activate his scan. The metal lion jumped when the green light suddenly enveloped him, and turned to growl at the medic.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, stepping back towards Catherine. However, it wasn’t out of fear, rather it looked to the redhead like the metal feline was doing so to protect her.

“Yes. Yes she did. She made a true Cybertronian. I can’t believe it, but she did it. And a quadruped mech no less! I don’t even know how you did it when you haven’t even seen one!”

“Where is this place? Who are you? Do you intend to harm Creator?” the metal beast growled, mane-like panels rising and the gun lifting as if readying to fire.

“Whoa, whoa! Calm down! It’s okay!” Catherine quickly shouted, rushing towards the front of the beast to grab its mane. He calmed at once, though eyed the two mechs carefully. “These guys are my friends. They helped me make you. They’re also medics.”

“Medics?” it hummed, eyes dimming for a brief moment. “Healers. I see. Yes, you don’t seem dangerous. My sensors aren’t detecting hostilities.”

“Ratchet—we have to tell Optimus. This—this is _incredible_! He’s small, yes, but she did it!” Jolt exclaimed, but Ratchet was either not so overjoyed or he was much better at not showing it. The metallic-blue mech noticed, though, and frowned at his mentor. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was cut off as the medic suddenly turned to the redhead with a serious, worried look in his optics.

“Catherine, get your creations and get into the closet. Now,” he spoke urgently. “Jolt, take them quickly!”

“What? Ratchet, what’s going on?” he inquired as he held his hand out to the redhead. The lion moved to stop her after she’d picked up her two drones, but with reassurance he let her by. Jolt meant to grab the metal beat with his other, but the lion refused and instead hopped down to follow on foot.

“It’s Jazz. His team’s returned.”

“I thought they weren’t going to back for a few more days,” Catherine stated, and the medic’s nod worried her.

“There’s no time to explain right now. Jolt, get them in there now before they get here!”

No more was said as the redhead and her creations were put into the closet and the door shut. There was a thin slit for her and the lion to see through, the former with curiosity and the latter with caution. Neither one of them had to wait long for the cause of their hiding to come through the doors. She could see Ironhide’s upper body over the table, but not the others. She did hear their voices, though, and there was one she didn’t recognize although it felt vaguely familiar. She tried to think of whom it could belong to when the sound of a rumble from the lion creature caught her attention.

“Enemy unit detected,” he hissed, though became silent at her command. She looked back through the slit when she heard movement, and then she knew exactly who the voice reminded her of. The memories came rushing back, and she felt her heart race. There was no forgetting that black and white armor labeled with words mocking what should have been a symbol of protection. She couldn’t forget those fangs or red optics, either, and she felt the bitterness rising as she glanced down at the scar on her arm.

There, standing with his arms held by both Jazz and Sideswipe, was Barricade.

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**TMWolf:** _SURPRISE. IT'S BARRICADE! :D_

_So. Anyone see that coming? :) Yep, yep! Barricade's back! You'll see what's going on soon enough, but not too much. And things have definitely gotten harder and she just barely managed to create a real Cybertronian!_

_For all you G1 fans, this is indeed the metallic lion Steel Jaw that was Blaster's Autobot cassette, but here he's just another quadruped Cybertronian. Think of Ravage, but in the form of a lion and with two, blue optics, and less evil looking. Like, a lot less evil looking. And yes, he is really Cybertronian and has a real spark :D Unlike his two younger brothers who are also drones. If you didn't catch the time skip, they were made during the two months, and were, essentially, failures, but they turned out okay. Blaster (a tiny- literally and metaphorically- a homage to G1 Blaster, but not as cool) is the most intelligent of the three drones, followed by Teletraan and then Cybermon._

_Oh, and so that was the other part of the spark lessons, pertaining to where they came from. Kind of. More on that in future chapters. But, yeah- so the Allspark gives sparks and they can either be contained in a box- "spark box"- or put directly into a sac to begin forming a Cybertronian. If you're wondering if I do spark boxes built into actually Cybertronians... well, you'll have to wait for future chapters for that, but I promise it comes up! :) Also, if I seem maybe a little contradicting in what wavelengths are or a spark is, just think of DNA battery. That's really what it is for my story. A battery energy source and a DNA code for their bodies._

_And you know what I found out about Jolt? He's the prankster. Not Sideswipe. Which is weird. BUT HEY. I can change it up. It is an AU, after all, ha ha~_

_And that's about it for now. More on Barricade to come and new complications for our poor Catherine! :D_


	23. One Step at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we get to see a little bit of Barricade here and some info on good 'ol Steeljaw! Yes, he is a lion, and he is based off G1 with golden armor and everything! 
> 
> And today's chapter's song is from Jordin Sparks - One Step At A Time. Definitely, uh, not completely fitting with the lyrics, but hey- it works. You'll see xD;

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_What the hell is Barricade doing here?!_ Catherine mentally screamed. There was no mistaking the metal armor décor—she couldn’t forget the mech that had ripped open her arm and infected her, and, ironically, led to her being where she was. However, she knew what kind of mech he was. He was a Decepticon. He was cruel, unmerciful, dangerous, and he had hurt… Well, he had hurt someone she’d rather not think of anymore, and with a quick shake of her head the image of the boy was gone.

“What is he doing here?” she heard Ratchet growl, lower and more threatening than she’d ever heard before. She tried to move to see him, but the metal lion was in the way, and Jolt suddenly placed his frame in the line of her view, no doubt trying to help keep her concealed.

There was no reply, though; only the sound of a strange buzzing. She frowned, not understanding at first, but when the metal lion next to her shifted, ears perked and listening intently, she recalled that their original language—Cybertronian—was an electronic tone; when spoken it sounded as a buzz to human ears or some strange electronic garble at times. While she couldn’t translate it, she could open her powers to their emotions, and by focusing on Jazz she easily senses the serious and dangerous tone of his words. If Barricade made one wrong move, she knew the mech would easily take him out even before Ironhide’s cannons could.

Sideswipe spoke next, disgust in his voice, and she had a feeling he didn’t need a sign of violence from the Decepticon to take him out. She could imagine his blades were gunning to spring out and slice through the ‘Con’s metal armor.

Ironhide grunted, the sound of his buzz low, and she could also hear his cannons whirring with anticipation to blast a hole through the Decepticon.

Ratchet replied in Cybertronian this time, his worry and fear for her hidden well under the forced calmness he’d placed upon himself. She could sense a change in the others, too, and she knew the medic had told them she was there. However, changing their state suddenly could be dangerous. Luckily, she had a feeling the Decepticon hadn’t caught on. He had started talking, but the other’s emotions hadn’t escalated or deepened. And, daringly, she touched at Barricade. She didn’t really know what to except—she wasn’t even sure she would feel something from him, although it was a silly thought—but in the end she found he felt _bored_. And that worried her. Surely he should have felt fear or worry or _something_ with his life so close to being terminated. Yet, he was acting as if it was just fine. Normal, even.

Besides her, as if resonating with her own emotions, the metal lion emitted a low growl. She quickly silenced him with a firm touch to his mane, which turned his blue optics to her, curious and worried. She raised a finger to her lips, and, although he probably didn’t know what that meant, he became quiet. His optics remained facing the door, his metal ears—or she thought they were ears—cocked forwards, listening again. Her drones were less alert, content with clinging to her shoulders, shaking with unease. They were thankfully quiet as they did so.

She heard Ratchet grunt, and then the Cybertronians began to shuffle around. She thought she heard the Decepticon grumble something, but then there was a thwack of metal. Jolt finally moved, though only due to Ratchet’s calling, and she could see Barricade’s legs on the table, his upper body hidden by Sideswipe’s frame. He and Jazz were still holding him down, and Ironhide still had his cannons trained on the ‘Con. She thought she saw the white-armored mech glance in her direction, his face not hidden from her view, but then he was focused on the ‘Con.

There was a shift of metal and then she heard uncomfortable grunts that worked in tune with the Decepticon’s twitches. The Autobots held him down, though, and he did not lash out as Ratchet did whatever he was supposed to. A very small part of her regretted having to see him go through the pain, but the other, much larger part was glad he suffered. He deserved to suffer. He was a Decepticon. Whatever reason he was here, he was still the enemy, and he would be treated as such.

The process only lasted a few minutes, the ‘Con jerking every so often, and then he was pulled up again. Whatever happened, his captors were not going to let him go or sheathe their weapons as they began to escort him out, Ratchet following after to make sure they made it all the way through the doors. She didn’t come out right away, though; it was only when the ‘Con was long gone, Ratchet had shut the door and locked it, and Jolt was given the okay, that the the electric-blue mech opened the Closet and picked her up carefully. The metal lion did not stop him this time, merely hopping out to follow them back to the table.

“Ratchet, what the hell is going on? What’s Barricade—a _Decepticon_ —doing here?!” she nearly shouted once she’d been set on the table. The lion joined her only after Jolt helped him, his jumping abilities not quite able to reach.

The medic frowned darkly, “He has asked for amnesty in exchange for supposedly _valuable_ Decepticon information. The prospect is too great to pass up despite the dangers it will pose, noting that not all dangers are known to everyone. We’ve already begun taking precautions—that display you saw, for instance. I have deactivated and blocked all his weaponry, scanners, communications, and anything he might use against us or to discover your secret.”

“No offense, but I still don’t feel all that safe,” Catherine frowned, too, folding her arms.

“Which is also why he will be secluded to the brig and accompanied by a guard at all times. Furthermore, so long as we can help it, he will _never_ be within your presence, or any other human's for that matter.”

“I doubt the humans or some of the younger mechs will be happy about this, Ratchet,” Jolt spoke uneasily. “Prime is already speaking with the human leaders, but neither of our races is forgiving.”

“Prime was well aware of that when he agreed to let the others bring him here,” the medic grunted. “While we are not so forgiving, we are opportunistic. We don’t need to forgive the slagger to gain and use his information.”

“This still isn’t good. What if this is all some ruse?” the redhead inquired, her brows scrunched together, deep in thought. On her shoulders, her drones crouched low, not sure what to make of their creator’s unusual mood. Their lion-like brother was not so unsure, and stepped close to the redhead, brushing his mane against her in comfort.

“No harm will befall you, Creator,” he rumbled softly.

She smiled briefly, resting a hand right behind his mane, “What if the Decepticons do know about the Allspark and he’s been sent to spy and find out what’s happened? It’s possible to hide my creations, but you know how mischievous they can be—they’re a chance they might meet on accident. How are we supposed to play that off?”

“With exactly what Prime and I have been telling the humans all this time,” Ratchet replied quickly and firmly. “The idea is that we kept the Allspark energy we ‘siphoned’ from you to test its creation possibilities. The humans were not appreciative of not being informed, of course, but they know they have no true right to tell us what we might do with _our_ artifact, and so they are convinced we can create with it. They will believe your drones and this new Quadruped is made from the shard’s energy, and so will Barricade should he discover them.”

“And it’s as he said—the Decepticon’s been inhibited so that, should he be a spy, he cannot communicate with the other ‘Cons without us knowing, and the blocks we’ve placed can only be removed by Ratchet. Well, I can remove a few of the lower level ones, but the higher are beyond me,” Jolt added, and his mentor lifted his head with a hint of pride.

Catherine eyed the two of them for a little while, her expression still unsure, but then she sighed and nodded.

“Alright. But what’s going to happen with this—the whole Allspark training thing? I want to keep going, especially now that I made this guy here,” she began, pausing to gesture at the metal lion, “but I know it’s not as safe. Even with that excuse you have…”

Ratchet hummed, “It would be best to stop for now, and not only because of the Decepticon. You have just achieved a break through; we must analyze it and make sure nothing bad has happened before we can even think of moving forward. I cannot be sure how long that will take, but certainly not much longer even with our new ‘guest’.”

“That’s true. We don’t even know if you’re completely right, huh?” the redhead smiled softly, patting the side of the metal lion’s head.

To her surprise, he seemed to snort, “I am fully functional and working at one-hundred percent efficiency. You need not have any doubts of that, Creator.”

“Regardless, it is mandatory for any Cybertronian denizens of this base to undergo monthly maintenance checks by the medical staff, which is Jolt and I,” the medic frowned, narrowing his optics to put the lion in its place. The lion growled softly, but looked away, lowering its tail and mane panels slightly in deference. His dominance established, Ratchet continued, “Furthermore, you will need to be secluded here until it is safe for you to roam about.”

“But—,” the lion began, only to be cut off by a stern look from the medic.

Catherine smiled softly at her creation, “Hey, it’s okay. These two little miscreants felt the same way when I had to keep them here. It won’t be for too long, you know—just until Prime cools things over with the other humans. Besides, it’ll give you time to get to know your comrades. Er, wait—I guess you need a name first.”

“A designation?” the lion hummed, tilting its head slightly. “Yes, I suppose one would be most useful. What is it you will call me, Creator?”

“Uh, okay, I’m getting a little freaked out by the ‘Creator’ title. It’s Catherine, okay?” the redhead replied, raising a brow, and the lion nodded obediently. “And um… I dunno—maybe you should decide?”

“I would prefer if you should name me, Cre—Catherine.”

“For what few spark bond sparkling were made, their creators often made the names for their offspring,” Jolt sated reassuringly, and the redhead shrugged.

“Alright then. Um… Maybe Voltron?” she started, but laughed as she waved that one off. “Sorry, that was just a silly idea. Anyways, how about… Well, I based the others on something they did or what they look like so… Hmm… Maybe Steel… you're made of some kind of steel…but that's not enough... Let's see. You have strong jaws and big mane... Steelmane? No, no...Steeljaw? Yeah—Steeljaw! That sounds awesome. What do you think?”

The metal lion tilted his head, tail twitching back in forth in thought. A slow rumble started in his throat, which made her think he didn’t like it at first, but then she realized he was _purring_ , or as close as a robotic lion could get. The lion then pressed his head against her side, the purring growing louder and sounding more like an electronic buzz.

“I accept. My designation shall be Steeljaw,” he spoke, his metal facial plates curving into a toothy smile.

“I think it suits you,” Jolt grinned and Steeljaw grinned back.

“Well, if that’s all fine and settled, it might be best if you return to your room for now, Catherine. Perhaps you should even go to the human side to be safe,” Ratchet spoke up, holding his hand out for the redhead. “I will begin my scans right away and leave the door open for your return. For now, though, we must keep quiet. Your safety, above all else, should be our greatest concern.”

She nodded, “I know, Ratchet. I’ll go see if anyone on my team is off duty or something. Take good care of Steeljaw, will you?”

“Who do you think I am?” the medic huffed in mock insult.

“The one and only Ratchet,” she chuckled and then turned to her metal lion. “Now listen here: You’ve got to be good. The Autobots are your allies and friends, and you’ll soon find Ratchet is the Dark Overlord of Diego Garcia whom you will obey at all times. Just don’t cause trouble and, for now, don’t mess with the humans. They take a while to get used to new things sometimes. All in all—just don’t cause any trouble, alright?”

The lion nodded, “Of course, Catherine. You won’t be gone long, though… right?”

“No, not long,” the medic spoke softly, his previous demeanor softening.

“Also, take care of these little guys will you? They’re technically your brothers,” the redhead smiled as she pulled the drones from her shoulders and placed them onto Steeljaw’s metal mane. They clung to it right away, making happy sounds as they crawled across the plates. The lion seemed happy as well, the purring from before returning. She turned away from them then, stepping onto Ratchet’s hand, and allowing him to walk her to the door. She raised a brow at the odd action, as they would normally set her down, but she was quickly answered when he opened the door to reveal a shorter, familiar mech with white, muddy armor.

“Jazz!” she called out happily and the saboteur grinned warmly as he accepted her onto his hand.

“Return her to the human side,” the medic informed his fellow mech, whom nodded somberly once before regaining his cheerful demeanor. The medic then shut the door save for a small slit for her to pass through later and began his work while the white mech turned down the hall. He set her up on his shoulder as he usually did, and she watched his expression carefully.

Jazz looked like his usual self, but when she pried deeper she could sense the worry and tension from earlier. He was certainly a master of hiding it on the outside, his grin seemingly as genuine as the bright shine of his optics. She knew he was fearful for her though, and not just her. If Barricade was here, then the other humans would be in danger as would the other Autobots. If the Decepticon was lying and found some way to communicate with his other damned cohorts, then she didn’t dare think what would befall this place.

“So, I see ya made a little somethin’ in the Med Bay,” he spoke suddenly, breaking her concentration. She beamed, her smiling going from ear to ear.

“Yeah! I finally did it! He’s small, but I did it!” she cried out, but then paused as she remembered an earlier conversation. “Or we think I did. Ratchet still has to check, but it felt like I did. It was different than before—more like how I was with you.”

“So ya finally found the secret ta it,” he hummed, though she couldn’t help but wonder if that was more to himself rather than her.

“You know,” she began, trailing off a little, “this probably would’ve gone by faster if you’d just told me what I was supposed to do.”

“Yeah, it woulda, but it’s like I been tellin’ ya—I can’t say nothin’ ‘bout it. I can help ya get there, but a gotta do the figurin’ on ya own. And like I also been tellin’ ya, take it easy n’ take ya time.”

She laughed a little, “You’re not the only one who’s said that, and I will. I’m kind of being forced to anyways, what with my schedule n' all. I’m just glad we finally got somewhere! One step closer to reaching my main goal!”

“Your main goal should be bein’ happy, shorty.”

“Well, being able to help your race makes me happy,” she grinned slyly. “Anyways, I’ll have even less time with Barricade here. How’d that even happen, anyways?”

“Didn’t ya—oh yeah, ya can’t understand Cybertronian,” the white-armored began. “Well, me n’ Ironhide and ‘Sides was sent ta investigate some leads in the U.S. We didn’t find nothin’ for a while, and I was about ta call it, but then we picked up ‘ol Barricade’s signal. He took us for a chase, n’ we thought he was gonna try ta escape. Turned out he was tryin’ ta get ta a place so he could surrender ta us and ask for amnesty. So we took ‘em ta the nearest NEST facility and brought ‘em back here. You saw the rest from that hidin’ spot ‘o yours.”

“Are you sure about this, though? He’s a Decepticon, Jazz. A _bad_ one. Not as bad as Megatron bad, but still bad!”

His look darkened, his true emotions showing at last, “I know that, shorty. It’s why we had ‘em held like we did and had Ratchet do more than just the basics for a prisoner-o’-war. We could use the information he’s got in the future, and he asked for amnesty. As Autobots we’re supposed ta honor it.”

“W-well… Well, what’s this whole amnesty for you guys then? I know a couple of rules of combat from what Prime’s been teaching me, but I don’t know that yet.”

“Well, ya know how some mechs start ta hate’ what they’re doin’ and think the other side is better, ‘o get tired ‘o fightin’, and they wanna stay someplace they can be safe or fight with us, and they defect ‘o ask for amnesty. If they want amnesty we let ‘em come as neutrals with no way ta contact the ‘Cons and no weapons. We keep ‘em held for a while, too, just in case. Defectors are only different in that we let ‘em keep their weapons ta fight.”

“Okay. I think I get that. But _Barricade_? What kind of information is he giving that’s so good? He better know what the hell is going on with the other Decepticons,” the redhead scowled, folding her arms.

Jazz chuckled a little, “Any mech can change, Catherine. Even nasty ones like ‘ol, Barricade, although I’m not partial ta him myself. Gotta keep it in mind sometimes o’ we won’t ever be able ta change, ya know? We’ll just be two sides fightin’ and fightin’ when we’re all the same race just with different symbols on our armor.”

Catherine opened her mouth to say something, but promptly closed it as his words hit home. She mentally smacked herself for being so stubborn and prejudiced! She knew she couldn’t forgive Barricade completely, but even so she had to remember the ‘Con was _Cybertronian_. He was part of the same race as Jazz or Sideswipe or Ratchet. There had been one time when he was good, or at least the Decepticons had been good. Now that the war was—seemingly—over, there was a chance for the factions to dissolve and there to be one race again. However, if both sides refused to cooperate and forgive to some extent or accept one another, then the schism between them would only continue to grow wider, forcing them farther and farther apart.

“I understand. A little. I still don’t like him—I don’t think I ever will, but I get it. I’ll give him a chance, too, and any other ‘Cons that defect or ask for amnesty.”

Jazz smiled softly, reaching his hand up to nudge her gently, “’Atta girl. I just hope all o' the others will take ta it so well. Most of ‘em are too young ta know times when there weren’t any ‘Cons ‘o Autobots.”

“I think if we talk to them they will. It might take a while, but… well, we have to start somewhere or nothing will ever come of it,” she sighed, running a hand through her bangs. “Ugh—just imagine how the humans are going to act! Makes me glad I haven’t been instated as you guys’ liaison yet. I’ll try to talk to some of the soldiers that have problems, though; see if I can’t get them to see the logic. I’ll definitely need to talk to Lennox.”

“I see ya are already takin’ care ‘o us,” the white mech snickered, and she set one hand on her hip.

“Well, _someone_ has to, don’t they? Lennox has his hands full taking care of all the soldiers around here, so I guess I’m the next best thing.”

“You’re perfect fo' the job, shorty, don’t ya doubt that,” he mused as he came to a stop and held his out for her. “And we’re at the edge o' our side, so I gotta leave ya here. Goin’ ta a meetin’ with Prime after this.”

She hopped on, frowning, “What’s going to happen with Barricade? Like, what should I be expecting? I do sleep on this side, after all.”

“Don’t ya worry about ‘ol Barricade. We gonna make sure ya don’t ever meet with ‘em unless it’s absolutely necessary. We’re gonna start escortin’ ya around here more often, too.”

“Well, I don’t mind being toted. What about the other humans on our side? I know there are three now that we got one moved over…”

“That’s part ‘o what Prime is discussing with Lennox right now. Talk ‘bout getting’ ya moved, too, but Prime’s vouching for ya ta stay over here,” he replied, and raised a hand to calm her as he set her down. “Don’t get all rustled up now, shorty. We got some logic on our side ‘n all, so let Prime handle it.”

“I know Optimus can handle the political figures, but Lennox is another matter. He’s kind of taken me in, y’know? You joked about it yourself the week before you left, and all the other guys do too.”

“Well, looks like ya got some work ahead ‘o ya. Get on now, shorty. Go have some fun with ya human friends. Can’t have ‘em getting’ jealous of us, can we?” Jazz winked and Catherine laughed in return.

“Not that they can compete of course,” she winked back. She then touched her pocket, but found it was empty and frowned. “Damn. I forgot to bring Teletraan. Um… I guess I’ll be back here after dinner, so around six. Will you be able to come get me then?”

“If not me then someone else will, I’ll make sure ‘o it. See ya later, shorty.”

“See ya, Jazz. You better tell me all about your trip, too! I don’t want to have to get your side from Sideswipe—he’ll mess it up somehow!” she called out as she started walking away backwards. The white mech merely grinned and waved, waiting until she turned around and strolled to the human side.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

It turned out her team was off duty and they were spending time in the recreation room. The government had been wonderful to their soldiers and provided a good deal of fun games. One of the most popular was ping pong, which was where she found all of her teammates huddled about, two of them duking it out while the rest watched on the sidelines cheering. She could see right away it was Anthony and Jackson wielding the paddles, and they were definitely going at it. It didn’t help that Fig, Epps, Alex, and David were goading them on. She joined them, of course, and was witness with a few other guests—she didn’t remember their names—of Jackson’s victory over Anthony, who displayed an overzealous show of defeat.

From there they went to watching television and playing card games with some others with a quick lunch break in the middle of it, all during which time she trained her ears for any word of the Decepticon. Oddly, she didn’t hear anything about it. It actually worried her more than anything else; none of them knew they had a Decepticon in their midst. If anyone found out they hadn’t been told things could get out of hand very easily and cause dissention, but there was probably a reason behind the secrecy. She knew everyone was so lax because they didn’t know, and there wouldn’t be any danger if Barricade’s intentions were genuine and the Autobots did their job. Still, she felt they were being put into danger, in a way. However, it wasn’t her place to tell—it was Lennox’s and the Generals, so kept quiet throughout the few hours she spent with her team, quietly hiding her worries behind a happy mask.

Catherine continued to listen throughout the day, especially when they went to their workout room, and during dinner where most of the soldiers would be. Again she couldn’t see any tension or sense it in the way they spoke or act, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. She did notice there were some odd looks thrown her way, and she supposed it was because she generally ate a late dinner on Sundays rather than her team’s earlier time. Thankfully that was the worst she saw of the looks, otherwise she wasn’t thought much of. Her team was the exception, of course, and they were happy to include her in their jokes. In Anthony’s case it was his flirting, but he’d lessened over the course of the month, making only humorous passes that could never be taken seriously. They were all like her big brothers and Uncles, after all. Her very childishly fun, big brothers and Uncles, that is, although they were serious in the line of duty.

Things went well for dinner and, remembering her request from earlier, she departed their company and returned to the main divide between sides. She passed by other soldiers whom she greeted as usual, though gave nods or salutes to those who were on duty or heading to it. They returned similar gestures in kind, and she went through them quickly, especially when she reached the open space. She couldn’t see anyone at first, much to her disappointment, but she still made her way over. It made her wish she really had brought Teletraan with her, but she waited, regardless, leaning against the wall and finding the floor interesting.

“What are you waiting for?” a voice called out, and she looked up to find a small group of three staring oddly at her. The one that had spoken was a young, blonde-haired man, who looked the leader of their group. He seems nice enough, his look more curious than anything else.

“For my friend to arrive,” she replied simply, straightening some.

“Oh. Well, who is it? We might know who it is and can let them know,” the female of their group—a black-haired woman—offered, but the redhead shook her head with a smile.

“My friend’s one of the Autobots.”

She held back a frown when the other man, a dirty-blonde, looked at her like she was crazy, “One of _them_? Wait—you’re that chick the Commander brought. Those things’ representative or something, right?”

“Yes, I am to be the _Autobot_ s’ representative, as you put it,” she replied, nearly growling every syllable. “And they’re not ‘things’. The correct term is Cybertronian.”

“So you let them carry you around all the time?” the first man asked, his tone going places she didn’t like. “So are you like their pet or something?”

“No. I’m their friend. It’s just easier on both of us if they carry me.”

“Isn’t that… weird?” the woman asked this time, and Catherine sighed.

_No. No it’s not. They’re not ‘things’; they’re alive and have personalities and feelings just like us, and you have no damn right to think any less of them especially after what they’ve done for you, you ungrateful little bastards!_

The words lingered on her lips, ready to burst out, and surely would have had the flash of silver not appeared in the corner of her eyes and attracted her attention. All four of them turned and looked up to find a silver mech she knew all very well and was very happy to see. His blue optics regarded the three other humans with little interest before granting the redhead a grin. He crouched then, lowering his hand, which she gladly hopped on to. She easily ignored the murmurs that came from the trio as he lifted her to his shoulder, exchanging warm greetings. The trio may as well as never existed for the mech as he turned away and began to roll off, but Catherine spared them a backward glance, holding back her look of disdain. They still stared with confusion, and she knew it could very well come back to bite her in the ass some other time, but for now she was content to leave them far behind.

“So I see Jazz sent his stooge to come pick me up,” she snickered, and the silver mech snorted.

“How about I drop you?” he countered, and this time she snorted.

“You wouldn’t dare. Besides, if you dropped me I would die and then you wouldn’t get to hear the possibly very good news I have.”

He raised an optic ridge, “'Possibly good news'?”

“Well, I know I shouldn’t really be telling just yet, but I feel you should know considering how much you’ve encouraged me, so,” she began, trailing off with an excited grin not unlike a child about to reveal a silly, super-secret surprise. “I might have made a Cybertronian! I might have really done it!”

The silver mech stopped to turn, optics widening and brightening as his mouth opened a little. Catherine nodded enthusiastically, holding back a delighted squeal. Sideswipe smiled back, optics turning back to the path as he continued on.

“That’s great!” he replied, and Catherine enthusiastically agreed, not noticing the odd shimmer in his optics or emotions.

She calmed down a little, as she added, “But Ratchet still has to make sure. He’s really small, by the way, but so far things are looking good. The most important part is that I made a genuine Cybertronian spark and not the ones I have in my three drones. If I can keep working on it I might be able to make an actual one of you guys! Granted, now that Barricade is here, I don’t know, but maybe!”

“I guess we better get you to Ratchet so you can find out!” he smiled. “I would join you, for moral support and all, but I was just sent to escort before Ironhide forces me to train.”

“Awww… Well, you gotta make sure you keep your skills up. We can’t have the Autobots ‘best’ getting stale, now can we?”

“Please. I don’t get stale. That’s what being the best means,” he huffed, holding his head up high. “And just so you know—I’m almost able to beat Ironhide. Soon he’ll be the one with his face in the floor!”

“So you admit that you’re not as good as him. You know that means you’re not the ‘best’, right?”

The silver mech paused, his mind realizing his error, and then he began to grumble and growl under his breath. Catherine laughed, which only made it worse for him, and he purposefully made a sharp turn to nearly make her fall. Thankfully, her reactions were quick enough to grab one of his metal plates and stay standing, which allowed her to glare at him because she knew he did it on purpose.

“Alright, Mr. Grumpy-pants, no need to get grumpier,” she growled as he smirked. “Well, once we’re all done let’s meet up later. I want to hear about what went down in the states from you, too.”

“Not much to be honest, though the chase was kind of fun. Until the end, anyways. Would have preferred to slag that ‘Con rather than bring him back.”

“You and everyone else, ‘Sides, but we can talk later. You move way too fast sometimes,” Catherine mused as the silver mech came up to the Med Bay hangar door, still opened slightly. The silver mech merely shrugged as he set her down, peering through the human-sized slit in the door. There wasn’t much to see besides Ratchet and Jolt, though, and he pulled away.

“Yeah, we’ll have time later. Be sure and let me know how things go, alright?”

“No problem. Although, I do wonder why you’re so interested in my Allspark skills,” she grinned mischievously, and laughed a little when he flinched as if caught. He quickly recovered and shrugged it off.

“You’re the one who’s been all excited, and we’re friends, so shouldn’t I know about what to congratulate you on?”

“I guess,” she shrugged back before laughing again. “Anyways, get on, you! Ironhide will skin you if you’re late!”

He turned, frowning, “Tsk. I know, I know.”

Then he was gone, rolling down the hallway where he passed by another of the new Autobots—Scattershot and Blazemaster—whom greeted him warmly, but only got a lukewarm response. Thankfully, everyone knew Sideswipe was like that to those he didn’t know well, so they were fine as they continued on. She would have greeted them herself, but she heard some mumblings from inside and sensed some things she didn’t quite like.

Frowning, she entered into the Med Bay and found the medic and his student standing near one of their work desk, looking over some diagram. She glanced over at the table and found Steeljaw still there, only lying down now with his “brothers” crawling about him. When one neared his paw he playfully pushed them aside, at which point they both immediately attacked it, beginning a cute game between the three. It made her smile for a brief moment before moving over to Ratchet’s feet.

She touched his leg to keep him from being too surprised, “So what’d you guys find?”

When both looked down at the same time with the same frown she began to worry. She waited, though, as they brought her up to the desk to show her what they were looking at. It was a spark, but not like one of her drones’ or the one she’d studied. This was a spark she knew, but it wasn’t Steeljaw’s either. She narrowed her eyes as she examined it, sensing somewhere deep inside that something was wrong with it. It wasn’t something terrible or devastating, but there was something different; like it was incomplete, but it wasn’t a drone spark.

“Ratchet… who’s spark is this?”

The medic sighed, digging a cold knife in her stomach, “It’s mine.”

“Yours? But… then—something’s…”

“Wrong with it? Yes, I know, and I think we’ve figured out what,” the lime-green mech replied, fixing the image of the spark so that it rotated to show a small part of it where the wavelength was just gone; not just altered and misplaced—it was _gone_. It wasn’t a large portion or a huge gap, but you could see t.

“What?“ she gasped, touching at it, though her finger went through.

“Apparently you didn’t just take Energon from Ratchet,” Jolt began, and the dread continued to build within her stomach as she looked up at him and then the medic.

“I didn’t realize it before when you revived Jazz because you had taken so little, but this time… This time you literally took a small piece of my spark to form Steeljaw’s,” Ratchet finished. Though there was no reprimand or anger or anything that meant to punish her, her head fell, a great shame forming within her.

“God, Ratchet—I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t meant to—I-I…” she began, running a hand through her hair and turning away.

“Catherine,” he called, touching her shoulder gently. “I am _alright_. All it will affect is the information capacity of my processor, and that’s only by a fractional margin.”

She didn’t dare let a smile come to her face, “I still took some your spark—some your _life_ from you! I—That—That’s _wrong_!”

“Catherine, it’s not my life that’s been affected, and it’s as I told you: the effects were infinitesimal.”

“Still…” she sighed, a stinging pain in her eyes that she hadn’t felt for a long time. “Is… Do I… Will I have to do this every time I make a spark? Will I have to take from others?”

“I believe so.”

“And if I have to take a little to make something as small as Steeljaw,” she continued, gesturing to the metal lion that had begun to look over at them with concern, “then how much would I have to take to make a full Cybertronian?”

The two exchanged looks before Jolt spoke, “We’ve been… discussing it, and, we believe it would take half, if not all, to make a full-sized Cybertronian depending on the amount of energy you gather first.”

“So I’d have to kill one of you to make someone else?”

“I…Y-yes… a Cybertronian cannot survive without at least eighty-five percent of their spark,” the electric-blue mech replied.

“God dammit,” she breathed. “Just—argh! Damn! Damn! Fuck! Dammit!”

“Catherine,” Ratchet called out with a sigh, but the redhead didn’t hear him as she went on, cursing and throwing her arms about in shameful frustration. He called her again, but still she did not answer, so he took further action and lifted her up, bringing her close to his face. “ _Catherine_.”

Her string of curses stopped at last, and she looked at him, her disappointment and anger and shame and hurt shining in her eyes, easy for him to see. He sighed again and lifted her chin with his finger.

“Catherine, it is alright. I know Prime has already spoken to you, but I will say my own piece as well: You are not responsible for our race. I don’t give a slag if you have the Allspark power—that does _not_ mean it’s your job to make sparks. While we would be happy to see our race revived, we do not expect it from you, and will not think any less of you should you not be able to do it. So enough with this ‘it’s my duty’ slag, because it’s ridiculous, and I swear I will throw a wrench at you if you don’t, do I make myself clear?”

“He’s right, you know. Many of the others have come to terms with the fact we no longer have the Allspark, so to speak. I was alright with it myself, considering the other options and circumstances. I admit I was… upset, at first, but we’ve accepted our loss, and you must realize our kind can almost live forever so long as we maintain our bodies, which means you don’t need to feel bad about it,” Jolt spoke as well, grinning lightheartedly.

Catherine looked between them, shame still lingering, but not so strongly now. She let herself smile a little, realizing she had been taking her practices too seriously. It really wasn’t her duty no matter how much she felt like it was. Granted, now it couldn’t be her duty. She would never take the life of her friends and comrades to make another. Nor would she take any more of their sparks to make more attempts. Steeljaw would be her best and last creation so long as a sacrifice would be required.

“Okay,” she smiled, the hurt lessening. “But I want to keep trying to find a way that doesn’t need me to use your sparks. I need to keep learning about my power, and not because I have to—because I want to. I need help, though.”

“Then we’ll provide it,” Ratchet told her firmly, and she didn’t need to reach out to his spark to know he meant it.

She smiled more brightly, knowing that even with the lessening burden she now bore, things would be okay. She had time, after all. She had friends, too, that would help her. So while hope had faltered, it was still there, and she knew they would do it. Maybe not today, but some day, going one step at a time they would reach that goal.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _Oh, I'm sorry- did you think it would be easy? :) NOPE. Difficulties. Don't worry folks- Ratchet is not hurt or damaged in serious way or even any small way. He just has a lower limit than before for information, but only by a fractional margin. So, like 0.0045 percent, or some number like that. Still, no spark-making for Catherine, though. Not until she figures things out, but before that- she's got a lot to go through :D We've got two more movies, after all~ And another 2-4 years space in between!_

_Oh, and so we don't know a lot about Barricade yet. He'll come in time, but first- WE GET SOME DRAMA FROM THE PAST. Just try and guess. I dare you. It's probably obvious, ha ha. But, yeah, prepare for some major drama with a capital D-R-A-M-A :D Also, Catherine thinking WAY too much again._

_I am awful :)_


	24. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is by Coldplay~

\----------------------------------------

Despite the bad-news-turned-not-so-bad, Ratchet confirmed that Steeljaw was, in fact, Cybertronian through and through. While he was small for one of his kind—Quadruped mechs were apparently supposed to be much larger than humans in general, although there were exceptions—he was still a true mech, and his spark was in good shape. However, he wasn’t given the clear to leave the Med Bay just yet, as Prime had still not gotten to explaining things to the humans, and they might not approve of him for a few days. The Autobot Commander already had enough problems with just the Barricade issue, so Steeljaw would have to remain confined to the Med Bay for a while longer. Both redhead and metallic feline were reluctant to agree, but both knew it was for the best and settled with the promise Catherine would come around often.

She left then, mixed between hope and disappointment, and remained so as she trudged her way through the halls, only giving half-hearted hellos to those she passed by. Some noticed— she could tell by the flux in their emotions— but they thought better of asking and moved on. She was glad for it, not really wanting to explain her brooding. Well, at least not to just anyone. Although, it was probably better she didn’t say too much even so; she didn’t need anyone getting excited and then disappointed like she was. Still, she wanted to talk to somebody that she could just go freely with, but both of them were busy.

She didn’t know how long Jazz would be—he could be busy all night considering how long the meetings generally went—but she knew Sideswipe would be out of training in a few hours. She could wait that long, and so picked up her pace for the rest of the way to her room where she found it just as she left it, only Teletraan was pacing unhappily atop her bed. She couldn’t help but smile at the little guy and cooed at him as she sat down. Instead of his usual drastic mood swing at her presence, he sat and pouted, chirping unhappily. She laughed and apologized, picking him up to press her face against his, which immediately sent him into a happy fritz.

With that settled, she had him send a message to her silver-armored friend to meet her at their usual spot once he was done training. It only took about thirty seconds for his confirmation and blame for letting the “old mech” land a hit on him. She snickered, and, figuring what she had on was fine, set Teletraan onto her shoulder and headed out. She didn’t meet up with anyone this time, and that was fine by her. It let her reach their spot in record no-Autobot-help-involved timing, and gave her plenty of free time to lie down, her legs on the sand and her back on the pavement. It was still warm although it was now bathed with shade, and was actually quite comfortable even in the hot, dry air. It gave time to play a few games against her little phone droid, whom was getting a little _too_ good at some of them.

Her freedom lasted longer than expected, as the sky which had still been bright blue when she first came out was nearly a dark indigo when she heard the whirring gears of Sideswipe's wheels. She could sense him, of course, but she liked to train her ears for sound as well. With a grin she leaned her head back to watch him roll over, a grumpy look on his face and a few new scratches to show for his time in the “Pit”, as the training room had become to be known fondly as.

“I see training went well,” she purred, and he gave her a prompt “shut up” as he sat down. It always intrigued her how he gently set himself despite having wheels for feet, barely making a single vibration as his metal rear hit the pavement. The way up was just as curious, but she sometimes likened it to a person on roller blades getting up, only with more finesse and style.

“Fraggin’ slagger had me do close combat with no weapons again!” he huffed, glaring down at his chest, and she assumed it had more than a few dents considering his arms did. Thankfully, that was an easy fix for their repair system, so there wasn’t any need for trips to Ratchet after every training session. If they didn’t, Catherine was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any training at all!

“Well, you never know when you won’t be able to use them,” she shrugged, and he gave her an angry look. “Okay, so that shouldn’t happen since they’re Cybertonium or whatever you called it, and indestructible or whatever, but maybe you won’t have time and you’ll need to use your fists or feet—er, _wheels_ first. Ironhide’s just trying to prepare you for anything.”

“It’s Cybert _a_ nium, and I _know_ , but I _hate_ not using my blades. They’re basically my fists, anyways!”

“Well, here’s another go: If you used your blades in close combat, then you’d end up hurting Ironhide pretty badly, and as much as you think that’s a good idea right now, it’s not, and you know it. And if they are basically your fists, then this is still helping you out. The only difference is that in a real fight you’d have your blades instead of just fists.”

He frowned, “I guess that’s true. Still wish I could have used them. Or that it would have been a fire fight.”

“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss, ‘Sides,” she laughed, patting his leg. “Ironhide’s got a lot more experience on you, so it’s only natural he’s better. You’re still pretty young for your race, anyways.”

“Well, compared to Prime and Ironhide, yeah, but some of the others like those two little slagheads and Evac are younger than me.”

“That had absolutely nothing to do with my point.”

“I’m just asserting that I’m not a ‘kid’ by your standards.”

“Again, that had nothing to with my point,” she sighed, smacking her palm to her face. “But, whatever. Anyways—how was your mission?”

He perked up, optics visibly brightening, “Boring, but it was great to finally get out of here and drive on some pavement! I hate all this slagging sand!”

“So it took you guys like a week to find Barricade? Where’d he even show up?”

“Well, the ‘tip’ was pretty vague to begin with. They just said someone spotted this suspicious police vehicle around that Hoover Dam place, so we checked out. There was nothing there— no traces, no signs, no nothing— so we spread out to comb the area. We were two solar cycles—uh, ‘days’, behind him, though, so we ended up waiting for more sightings from those guys NEST has out watching for ‘Cons.”

“You mean Jazz and Ironhide ended up waiting, right?” she teased, and the mech grinned shamelessly.

“I did do some driving around to help scout,” he winked, and she laughed. “Anyways, it took a while, but we got another sighting not too far north from where we were so we went off. We ended up in some small town for a while, but then we got another lead to the west, so we went there. We finally found him under some random bridge. Slagger took off as soon as we saw him, and sent us on this fragging’ goose chase outside the city to some abandoned warehouse where he transformed. We were ready to take him down and then he surrendered of all slagging’ things!”

“How’d that go, by the way? I imagine you didn’t believe him at first.”

“Frag no. He didn’t make any moves, though, even when Jazz subdued him and manually put him into stasis with that weird wire pinch in the back of the neck,” he continued, frowning as he raised his hand to point at the spot. “Even when he woke up on the transporter plane he just sat there. Not that he could do anything and still live, but he did _nothing_! Tsk. I was just waiting to slice the slag outta him, but—just—argh!”

She giggled even though she knew she probably shouldn’t, “Don’t worry, ‘Sides—there will be another Decepticon for you to chop up someday.”

“Not with how things are going. Barricade was the first sighting in a quartex!” he growled, but paused when the redhead gave him an odd look. “What? Oh. A quartex is about an Earth month. Why don’t you know these are already? Ugh. Never mind. There’s still ‘Cons out there. I know _he’_ s out there, that slagging piece of scrap. I swear if I find him—!”

“Whoa, ‘Sides. Calm down now! Who’s this ‘slagger’ you’re talking about and why do you hate him so much?” she asked, actually surprised. She’d never really seen him get so serious or angry at the thought of a ‘Con. Generally he just took them all as the generic enemy he had to fight, but this new one seemed like something else. Even more to her surprise, she watched the silver mech’s anger swell and then suddenly, vanish, replaced with a deep regret that permeated to the surface— filled his optics and made his body sag.

He sighed, “Demolisher. He… I… It… Ironhide told you about my ‘incident’, right? Well, he’s part of the reason. I… When I saw him, I just… lost it. He has to be taken offline. Whether it’s by my hand or someone else’s… I’d prefer it mine, but he has to offline either way.”

“Why… does he have to die?” she asked softly, and he looked down with such pain and regret she felt it herself. “You don’t—”

“It was a long time ago—back on Cybertron. I had finished my training and been assigned to protect a settlement of displaced refugees. They were neutrals—mechs and a few femmes—just trying to get away from it all. They had no weapons or defenses besides me and another new guard. He was younger than me, but he had potential. My brother would have been in his spot, but he was better suited for fighting than protecting. I guess I was the same way.”

He glanced down at her sorrowfully before continuing, “I had barely been there a meta-cycle when he—Demolisher—came. We— _I_ was unprepared. I was out scouting, and the other guard… he was slaughtered. He never stood a chance. The neutrals were worse off. I barely got back in time for there to be even a handful left. I tried to stop him. I tried _everything,_ but I was too young; too new; too _weak_. He nearly offlined me, but he didn’t. He… He kept me alive just so I could watch him kill the rest—kill those defenseless Cybertronians! And he laughed. By the Allspark he _laughed_ , and then he just smiled at me. He knew I had failed—he knew I knew I had failed. I was too weak. I couldn’t protect those neutrals. They’re all dead because I could do _nothing_.

“That’s why he has to die, Catherine. That’s why I hate him,” he finished, looking down and away, filled with shame. “That’s why we have to get rid of all Decepticons. They don’t care who or what gets in their way—they just kill.”

Beside her, his three fingers had curled into a tight fist and shook a little now along with his shoulders. She knew if she wanted, she could feel the very shame she had seen, and also the anger and sorrow, but she told herself it wouldn’t be right. There was no need for that, but something else, and she took on that something else by picking herself up and walking over to his clenched fingers. There she touched it gently, wishing she could send her comfort to him—wishing she could share his burden and help him, but she couldn’t, so she hoped that this could, at the very least, be enough to let him know she was there. Teletraan even pitched in, crawling down to her hand so that he could touch the silver metal, too, and chirp softly.

“I know you don’t think so, but I understand in a way. I’m not going to tell you to let it go because the ‘Con does deserve to suffer for what he did, but,” she spoke softly, pausing to look up just as he looked down, “don’t let it _consume_ you, ‘Sides. Vengeance… I’ve heard and read about what it can do to people, and it’s not pretty. You need to forgive yourself, too. While you weren’t able to protect them in the end, you did try. At least you tried instead of doing nothing or fleeing. Just don’t let it make you become bitter and angry, okay?”

He said nothing as he met her gaze, optics dimming and brightening in reflection of his emotions. She still did not touch them as she squeezed his hand tighter. His silenced continued for a few moments longer, and then his body relaxed and he uncurled his fingers so he could wrap them gently around her hands. His optics dimmed almost to where it was if he meant to close them like human eyes could, and he let out a deep intake of air.

“Okay. I won’t.”

“You promise?”

He smiled a little as he looked back at her, “I promise.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want to have to make Ironhide kick your aft for being an idiot!” she teased, and his smile became a soft laugh.

“Definitely wouldn’t want that.”

The two smiled at one another a few seconds longer before they finally released their holds. Sideswipe’s gaze turned to the ocean, while Catherine sat down, leaning her back into his hand whereas Teletraan took up sitting beside her head on his hand. He glanced down briefly and made sure to keep his hand still.

“So, um,” Sideswipe began, “what was the good news you wanted to talk about?”

Catherine frowned with a sigh, “Well, it’s not so ‘good’ anymore. Let’s just say it’s still a work-in-progress. Although, it turns out I was able to make a real Cybertronian. Ratchet said Steeljaw—”

“’Steeljaw’? Who’s Steeljaw?”

“The mech I made. Ratchet called him a ‘Quadruped’ or something like that. He’s basically a metal lion, only he’s really smart and has a spark. Unfortunately, he’s going to be the only one I make until I get some of the ‘bugs’ fixed.”

“Well, what’s wrong?”

She ran a hand through her bangs, “Ugh… Just some stuff with the process. Like I said—it’s a work-in -progress. A long one.”

“At least you did make one, right? When are we going to see him?”

“Yeah, I guess, and once Ratchet says it’s okay for him to come out. Prime’s gotta fill in the humans and stuff. They probably won’t take it too badly—he’s pretty small. His head is a few inches taller than mine, and his mane is even higher.”

“What? Really? He’s _that_ short?” the silver mech asked incredulously, though managed to keep his hand still.

“It’s my first actual success—give me a break!” she barked back, throwing her hands up. “Again: a work-in-progress. He’s perfectly normal, though! He’s smart and very well-mannered! The drones love him already!”

“Alright, alright, calm down. Just do your best, and don’t let it consume you, okay?” he grinned, and the redhead turned up to gawk at him, mixed between laughter and disbelief he would pull that. Then again, he was _Sideswipe_.

“Oh, I don’t know… Well, _okay_. If only because you asked me,” she snickered, and he bumped her gently with his hand. “It might take longer than I thought, though, considering Barricade’s here now, and I spend the rest of my week strung between Lennox and Marissa in training.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. I’m always on duty or training when you’re out, so I kinda forgot. What’s that like, anyways? Sounds boring to be honest.”

She shrugged, “It’s not so bad. Marissa is really nice and she’s a great teacher. I’ve already learned a lot, although just about the soldiers in my hours. The others I don’t see enough to get to know them yet. Those I do know are okay, except for a few, but I can handle them. My team’s got my back, too, and they’re great fun to train with. You should come meet them sometimes. After the other humans get used to you, that is. I think you guys could be good friends, too.”

“Hnn. But they’re not like you and Lennox or Sarah. They don’t like us.”

“Well, I don’t like everyone I see at first, and you don’t interact with them at all. I mean, that’s in part because Prime said not to, and NEST is still working things out, but you just have to give them a chance. You gave me one back at Lennox’s farm, right? And look at us now.”

“I guess some will be okay. I mean, you’re okay… The rest should be okay, right?”

“For the most part. Some are a little rude, and some don’t want to talk at all—they stick to their own groups generally; sometimes their teams, but most are good people. Sydney and John and their teams are a funny bunch. Mary, Zach, and Leroy are way up on the cool side—Jazz would have a blast with them. And then there are Tanner and Monica’s teams.”

“Sounds like it’d be fun,” he chuckled. “I’ll think about it once we start to integrate with them more.”

“Good. You need more friends than just me and Ironhide’s fist or Ratchet’s wrench,” she smirked, and he promptly pulled his hand away so that she almost fell. Thankfully, she caught herself, and while she glared up at him playfully Teletraan chirped his own opinion, having nearly hit the pavement right before he grasped onto Catherine’s shirt.

“I have friends!”

“Like who? Hmmm?” she teased, and he scowled.

“I’m friends with Arcee and Blazemaster and Nightbeat!”

“Uh-huh. Arcee is one of your main training partner besides Ironhide, you completely ignored Blazemaster in the hall, and do you even know what Nightbeat likes to do off duty?”

“I talk with the Triplets off duty! And I was just… I didn’t feel like talking to Blaze in the hall, and Nightbeat likes to go through old, unsolved human problems or whatever they call them.”

Catherine narrowed her eyes as she watched him, testing to see if he was just bluffing. She pursed her lips and he gave her an odd look back that almost looked like that of a guilty liar. A few tense seconds later, though, she clicked her tongue and folded her arms.

“You got lucky this time, mister, but I’m watching you. You’re going to make more friends.”

She turned away then, leaning back against his hand, which he had put back down. His optics watched her for a moment before he looked back out at the ocean with a chuckle.

“Whatever you say, Kitty Cat.”

He laughed when she kicked his hand.

\----------------------------------------

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------

Whatever meeting NEST was going through, it had evidently ended during the night, as Lennox was waiting for her out in the main area. He looked tired, though, with dark lines under his eyes and he yawned more than usual. Regardless, he maintained himself all through training, and by breakfast he was his usual self. He wouldn’t talk about the meeting, though. Not yet. He hadn’t actually told her, but she could tell with the look he gave her when she had quietly asked about it.

None of the others caught on, even throughout training. She was pretty sure they noticed he was tense this time around, though, seeing as she had right away. He was a little distracted, too. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to affect his or the team’s performance during the simulation run, but it was noticeable regardless. The other guys still didn’t say anything; not even during the obstacle course, so she began to think that maybe they hadn’t seen it after all. Then again, they could have just been being respectful to their Commander. Either way, she wasn’t going to make a scene, and kept quiet until after lunch when Lennox told the others to take a break, but asked for her to walk with him.

He was quiet pretty much the whole walk, nodding when he needed to at the lower ranked soldiers, and only mentioning they were almost there when she asked where they were going. It turned out he was bringing her to the Autobots’ side, into a large meeting room where Optimus was waiting for them. It was a similar room to the one she’d met General Morshower in, only the furniture was gone and there was no General.

“Do we need to wait for anyone else, Prime?” Lennox asked, and the Autobot Commander shook his head.

“I’ve already informed my troops of the situation,” he replied as he crouched down to be at their level.

“Alright then,” the man nodded and turned to face Catherine. “I’m guessing you already know about Barricade.”

“Yes, and you are planning to tell the other soldiers, right?”

He nodded again, “Yes. Tomorrow, in fact, but we needed to talk with you about a few things first. One of them being what Ratchet’s told us.”

“Steeljaw, you mean.”

“Er—yes? You named it? And I meant your Allspark powers in general. I’m sure you’ve already figured it out by now, but you’re going to need to put a stop to that for a while. When we can trust the ‘Con— _if_ we can, that is, then maybe you can start them back up. For now, though, you need to stop.”

“I know. It’ll be bad enough if the Decepticons know the shard is here,” she frowned. “But besides that—how will the whole we-have-a-Decepticon-on-the-premises go? I know there will some people who will not be happy about this at all.”

“General Morshower thought along the same lines, which is why the ‘Con will remain on our side. As you’ve been told, he will remain in the brig until we decide he may be trusted to walk around, and always with a guard. Humans will also be restricted more harshly from this area,” Prime answered, his tone set with severity.

“Not me, though, right? Even considering who I am.”

“It took a bit of talking, but we convinced them that you staying over here would be best,” Lennox stated, though his tone wasn’t happy about that victory. “Unfortunately… the deal was that you would act as a kind of informant about the Decepticon. Essentially, you’ll need to be present for interrogations and must give me reports of what he said. I told them it wasn’t necessary and that Prime would gladly share everything, but they still don’t trust the Autobots enough.”

She raised a brow, “Obviously they don’t realize I’m not the best choice for ‘information’. I’m not one of their lap dogs after all. And am I really going to have to? I’d really rather not have to get near him. I mean, I can control my powers, but…”

“There are human security cameras in our brig and interrogation rooms. If our Communications Officer were with us, we could easily tamper with the feed, but neither my own nor any of my soldiers’ skills lie in that area. Furthermore, the human soldiers here are not loyal to us and might cause trouble if they wonder why we do not want you there,” Prime replied, not happy at all either. “We will make sure you are accompanied by an Autobot who knows your secret, though, and who can keep Barricade from catching on.”

“Okay. I don’t like this at all, but okay. I guess just help me through the whole report and interrogation process and we’ll see what I can do,” the redhead sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Like I said, I can control my powers, so nothing should be able to leak out at him or whatever. Still, what about the other soldiers? How do we plan to keep people in line? Sure, they’re soldiers, but they’re human too and prone to acting rashly on their emotions.”

Lennox grasped her shoulder gently, “You leave that to me and the General. And if anyone approaches you about any of this, you come to me, too. I’ll let the team know to watch out for people a bit more. I’ll even let Fairborne know. I don’t expect anyone to do anything, but, like you said, it’s a possibility regardless of how slim.”

“I’ll just count it as part of the more dangerous aspect of liaison training then. That way it will seem kind of productive, and, yes, I will take it seriously,” she replied, adding the last bit when her Commander made a face. “Now, um, about Steeljaw…”

Prime shifted, “They believe he was made as an experiment to test the Shard. You are safe, and he will be allowed to move about freely once Ratchet delivers a report on his characteristics and abilities. I believe they will find him a valuable asset, especially if he can get along well with humans.”

“I’m pretty confident he will, especially if I tell him to. Although, I do wonder how people will take to a giant metal lion that can talk intelligently.”

“I’d say it’ll work how most people are with the Autobots. It’ll have to once we start integrating both sides together.”

“Wait—when is that supposed to happen?”

“One more month should do it. They’re almost done with all the details, right, Prime?”

“I believe so. I admit these meetings are growing tiresome, although they are necessary,” the mech rumbled. “It would be good to unite our soldiers; it will help prevent mistakes in the battlefield.”

Lennox shook his head with a sigh, “It’s what Morshower and I have been telling them, but that’s the government for you. They take everything obnoxiously slow.”

“Ah, well now we know where you stand on legislation,” Catherine snickered, earning a grin from the older man and an only slightly confused expression from the Autobot. “Okay, so just a quick recap: You’re going to give the big news about Barricade tomorrow. No more power training until its safe. I’m supposed to report Barricade’s interrogations. Steeljaw will be able to walk around once Ratchet makes his report. Autobots and humans get to interact in about a month. Did I miss anything?”

“That’s about it. We’ll get into details later on,” Lennox nodded, and then smiled a little slyly. “Although, there is one thing you forgot.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, but you’ll have to follow me there,” he grinned, turning to Prime. “You have anything else you need to say?”

“Most she has already heard from my other officers, so no. Have fun,” he chuckled, stood, and left, leaving Catherine puzzled and extremely curious. She turned her eyes onto her commanding officer, who clasped her shoulder warmly for a brief moment and gestured for her to follow. Though still confused and wanting to demand answers, she followed him out and back to the human side silently. He took her through back ways she didn’t really know, increasing her curiosity, and she was about to make a stand when he brought her into one of the hangars. It was only slightly occupied by some supplies and one half-made airplane, so it was easy to spot the sight before her.

Settled around a metal bin fire were eight lawn chairs with six of them occupied by men who cheered at their arrival, holding up cans of soda instead of beer being that the drink was prohibited. On their laps were plates of food, the smell of which gave it away as Barb-BQ. At once a grin settled onto her face, and she took up the spot between Alex and Fig while Lennox sat next to Epps as he usually did. Both were tossed a can of soda of their choice and given a plate of wonderfully cooked meat.

“So what’s the occasion, guys?” she asked after taking a quick drink.

“Nothing, really,” Fig laughed. “We just like to have a _fiesta_ sometimes, y’know? It’s been a while.”

“And we all kind of had enough good news to have a party,” Jackson added as he took another drink.

“Good news?” Catherine inquired.

“Well, it varies according to person,” Alexander smiled. “For instance, I was finally able to speak with my mother now that our lines are secured. It was good to see her doing well.”

“Aww, you’re more of a Mamma’s boy than Figgy!” David laughed, and the Mexican quickly left off a string of Spanish words that sounded like something too foul for young ears.

“She has been sick lately, so I make it a point to check up on her,” the Russian spoke smoothly, and the blonde-haired man quickly shied back, ashamed. “It turns out she has recovered more and should be able to leave the hospital to go stay with my sister soon.”

“That’s always good to hear,” Jackson smiled. “I recently learned my wife is pregnant with two boys.”

Cheers went up all around, and those closest to him clapped him on the back. There was a quick toast to congratulate him, and there were a few teases as well. They were put aside when Anthony took his turn.

“Well, I don’t know about wives or mothers, but this kid got a tough girl to finally say yes,” he grinned, winking slyly. “And I believe you all know her as Sofia the Tease.”

Disbelief flew around the group, save for Catherine who honestly didn’t know "Sofia the Tease" that well. She had heard about the reddish-brown-haired woman before, but the Italian flirt has certainly never spoken of her. Granted, she’d taken to not paying too much attention to his words since they were generally all flirtatious. Evidently, he was capable of sticking with one woman, and was proud of it as he took in the praise the others threw at him.

“Just remember the rules, Anthony,” Lennox spoke up with a tone that made the others chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Commander. We’ll be _real_ quiet,” Anthony winked and more laughter ensued.

“Alright, enough outta you, playboy,” David chuckled. “It’s my turn, and I’m going to make the combo breaker and let it be known that this guy got his article into the paper. Took a while since I had to go through my sister, but I got it, baby! It’s gonna be heading out to Montana homes next Monday!”

“What’s it about, hotshot?” Fig inquired with only a small hint of challenge.

“It’s a story about a gator-eatin’, Spanish-talking, Mamma’s boy!” he cackled and the Mexican man swiped at his comrade, but missed. The two settled down and Fig took his turn.

“My news is my brother’s finally getting married, and I’ll be able to make it! Finally got my request through and I’ll be able to leave a week early so I won’t be late! I’m gonna be an uncle soon!” Fig smiled broadly and with pride. The others raised their cans in congrats, and David even gave him a friendly shoulder fist bump.

Lennox spoke next, a silly grin of his face, “You know what my good news is? Finally getting a small break from taking care of you kids even for a few hours!”

He received some friendly boos and laughs as the others threw empty cans at him. Even Catherine joined in, knowing full well his pains behind the jest.

“What about you, Epps? You were talking pretty big a while ago,” David prodded at the black man. The soldier in question nodded, grinning as he sat up a little.

“Well, I don’t meant to brag, but my wife’s as fine as ever, my baby girl aced her first test, and my boy’s already on the varsity football team. Eat it and weep, suckers!” he laughed, and the others took it well, adding to his laughter and complimenting him. While the others went on, Alexander paused to look over at the redhead.

“And what about you, Catherine? Any good news from home?”

For whatever reason, everyone seemed to hear and became quiet, as if it was some great secret she was about to reveal. Needless to say, it made things really awkward, and she glanced over quickly at Lennox who gave her a look that told her to remember her story, but also worried for her. She glanced around at the others and found only expectant faces waiting for reply.

“Uh, well, um… Not really.”

“ _Qué_?” Fig frowned. “What about your parents, _chica?_ I’m sure they miss you.”

“Er… Let’s just say we didn’t part on the best terms.”

“Ah, I get ya. Same with my parents,” Epps nodded. “Never did get along well with them. But what about that kid you were close with? Wasn’t it Sam Witwicker or something?”

“Witwicky, actually,” she corrected on instinct and mentally cursed. This was not where she wanted to go. She did not want to think about him right now. She had done so well for months now—she did not need to go back to that. She didn’t want to go back to it. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Not now.

“Yeah, that awkward kid. Y’know, I could have sworn you guys were an item, but then that other chick and all,” Anthony hummed, scratching the small stubble on his chin.

“Yeah, we were, um, just friends.”

“So, you haven’t talked to him or anything?” David asked, and Catherine frowned.

“We… We had a… um… fight. A really bad one.”

“Well, it couldn’t have been _that_ bad to where you haven’t talked to him,” Epps spoke next, and the redhead was really beginning to wish she could be invisible or teleport or anything that would keep her from being the center of attention.

“Look—it was… it just was bad, okay? I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Catherine,” Alexander spoke softly, and she looked over at him. As soon as their eyes met, she both wanted to listen and run away at the same time. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but a friend can be a difficult thing to find in this world; you should hold on to them while you can. People are not perfect, and there are bound to be conflicts in any relationships—especially a friendship—but you must learn to forgive.”

The redhead stared at him for what felt forever, her heart knowing every single syllable of every single word that left his mouth was true and right, but she wanted desperately to deny it. The meaning sunk deep, sparking a fire she thought had long since vanished. Only, it wasn’t the same fire. It was changed; altered. But it burned with the same intensity. She contained it, though; kept it deep within her.

“I guess,” she mumbled, loud enough that to the two next to her could hear.

Thankfully, they let her be, and their conversation turned elsewhere, allowing her peace for the rest of their time together.

\----------------------------------------

**-O-  
**

\----------------------------------------

Catherine had hoped to find Jazz to ask him something that evening after dinner, but he had been assigned to watch and “talk” to Barricade first—no doubt to judge his character and see if he was lying. She had thought about asking Ironhide or Ratchet or even Prime, too, but something kept her from doing so. She couldn’t have described it if asked, but she just felt she wouldn’t hear what she wanted or needed from them. The new Autobots couldn’t help her either. They wouldn’t know or understand her problem, but there was one mech left she had a feeling just might help.

It was that notion that brought her out to her and Sideswipe’s spot, this time alone without Teletraan to accompany her. There she sat, her knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her cargo pants. Her face carried no real emotion, the true war going on inside. Even so, the silver mech somehow knew as he rolled up and sat down beside her. No words came from his vocalizer as he gazed down at her, set between curiosity and worry for her unusual state.

She remained still for some time—minutes, hours, days; it was all relative as her mind shot cannons and bullets against the beating muscle in her chest that symbolically harbored her emotions. She was almost afraid to speak for fear of what might force its way out without her wanting. In the end, she braved the swelling beast within her and spoke.

“Did… Have you ever had a fight with your brother?” she asked at almost a whisper. She felt his emotions fluctuate, but could not accurately interpret them with the mess that was her own.

“Yes. Many times. More than we should have as twins,” he replied, chuckling a little at the end. It was a tentative chuckle—a hope to help her mood. It didn’t work.

“What happened… after you fought?”

“We would ignore each other for a while, I remember. We were both so stubborn that it usually took a battle to make us talk again, or Prowl or Ratchet.”

“So… you forgave each other, right? No matter what you fought over?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Always. He was my brother. My best friend. My twin. There was no way we could stay mad forever.”

Catherine was silent for a minute before asking, “Was there anything you couldn’t forgive him for? What if he betrayed you in the worst way possible?”

“Well,” he began slowly, “I don’t think I could ever _not_ forgive him. The worst he could do was… was offline… but… but I think I could forgive him for that. It would take longer than a fight, but… I would forgive him. He’s my brother.”

Catherine stayed as she was for another eternity before she finally released her grip on her legs and let her head fall against his legs. He gazed down at her, and she knew even without using her powers that he probably wanted to find out what was wrong. He brought his hand closer, curling his fingers around her a little instead, and for that she was glad. She didn’t want to explain. Not yet. Not until the gunfire had long since ceased and the war inside her ended. She only wished she knew how long that would be, and how it would end.

\----------------------------------------

**-O-**

\----------------------------------------

Sideswipe was kind enough to escort her back to her room, acting as a strange, silent wall of comfort. She knew he understood maybe even a little of what raged within her, and let her go with a soft glance and a mention to call him if he needed her. He left her then and she managed to make it to her bed where she sat down heavily on it, her hands clenched in fists and a dark shadow across her face. She glanced to her left to stare at the calm, sleeping form of Teletraan. She gazed at him for a long while, words forming on her lips, but pulled them back just before they could break free. However, it was a weak force that held back the words, and one managed to get free.

“Teletraan,” she called out, softly and with yearning. The little phone drone’s optics flickered to life and he perked up, but became mellow once he sensed his creator’s mood. He crawled over slowly, chirping cautiously. She did not look to him, though, her eyes settled on the floor as the words kept trying to come, but most of them were recalled. Even when the little drone pawed at her hands, she said nothing. She did look over at him, though, her lips set into a frown now.

She let out a deep breath a minute later, “Teletraan… will… will you… Did… Do… Do I—”

The words caught in her throat as memories flashed through her mind. She wasn’t ready yet. Not yet. It was too soon to go back—too soon to.. to… to forgive. Or… or was it? Yes—it was too soon. But was it? Was it too soon, or was it finally time? Had she been away long enough? Were the scars healed enough? Or would they rip open at the slightest touch? Was she not suffering now, or was this just the consequences of her denial? What should she do? Should she dare to transverse the tribulations? Dare she take on the trench their conflict had made? Was the trench even still there? She couldn’t be sure anymore.

She wasn’t angry, though, so maybe—perhaps—it could—it was possible. What was left then? She didn’t love him. She felt no passion for him anymore, so what was the burning—the yearning she felt? Had she not said she would leave him behind? Was it not for the best? Did she even know what was for the best? What was the source of this conflict within her?

“Did… Sa—”

Again the word, or rather the name, caught in her throat. No. No. No. Not yet. Not now. She couldn’t. Not yet.

The silence overtaking her once more, she stroked her drone gently, and then lay down atop the sheets, curled her limbs close, and closed her eyes.

\---------------------

**TMWolf:** _Alright. So. If you guessed Sam... you were dead on. LOOK GUYS. I DIDN'T FORGET HIM. :) You'll find that one of the major concepts of this story is about Sam and Catherine, but only ONE of them. There's plenty of other concepts and themes, but they are one of the biggest._

_I wanted to mention something about Sideswipe hating Demolisher. That's actually cannon. LE GASP. Yeah, according to the official Wiki, he hates Demolisher for killing a camp of neutrals he was set to protect. I made up the second guy and the small details, but the event does take place. Sooo there you go. Also- bonding time between them! I know you guys have been just DYING to see more of that ;)_

_And um... Oh! Hope you liked the small peak into the Catherine's boys' lives :) Epps really does have a wife and kids. Whether they're girl AND boy I don't remember, but I thought it would be nice that way. And gosh darn it, Alexander! Stop having such smart, philosophical things to say that make Catherine have drama! Oh, wait. Nevermind!_

_And now prepare for the best god damned show of denial you will ever see! 'Cause, I swear, Catherine is the freaking master of it. :P_


	25. See You Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay - See You Soon

\-------------------------------------------------------------

If there was one thing Catherine was good at, it was keeping her emotions in check so she could go about things, which was a very good thing considering her occupation.

She did fairly well the first day. It wasn’t hard for her to deny the existence of what happened the previous night. It was similar to plugging her fingers into her ears and going “la la la” when not wanting to listen to someone, only it was in her head and against her memories. Of course, instead of “la la la”, it was more so stating that it didn’t happen and she was most certainly _not_ thinking about a certain someone that she didn’t want to think about because of certain events she did not want to remember.

It started first with waking up and blocking the memories that were ready to drown her with an insanely strong torrent. It became a little more difficult as she started working out, which was when she normally let her thoughts wander around, but she found focusing on the exercises worked well enough. Things got easier when she met up with her team and they distracted her with random rambles that she could wrap her mind around. Sometimes the night before would start to touch at her consciousness; testing the strength of her well-built dam, but she fought it back.

She worried the others might catch on and say something—might cause a small break in the foundations, but as the day wearied on, they said nothing. She was just glad they didn’t catch her in the few instances when she made a weird face or did some odd gesture to help her forget. She had no doubt they would have started to pry, and even if they hadn’t, she knew without a doubt Lennox would have after they were done. There was no way his fatherly personality would allow it to go by without question, especially when she was basically his adopted kid.

She faltered a little during the simulation training, but only because she had to force back a memory just as an “explosion” went off and debris almost hit her. Thankfully, she managed to dodge, although she completely fell on her ass and received some concerned “what-the-hell-were-you-doing” looks. Luckily, her teammates had all had their share of “off days”, so they didn’t question her apparent lack of focus. They did note she was a little quiet and withdrawn compared to usual, although it was with casual, humorous banter that she shrugged off with similar demeanor.

The obstacle course fared better for her as it required a bit more focus to make sure she didn’t trip and smack her face into the ground or anything else. Of course, everything after that was like a free game hunting season for those thoughts she so desperately wanted to keep back. It was almost insane how quickly they began to ram and surge against her barriers on her way back to the Autobot’s wing. Once she managed to cross the chasm between the sides, they settled down, but only a little. She still needed a distraction. Anything would do, and she meant _anything_. She would even take those two damned, annoying poser Twins if it would just keep her mind off those even more damned thoughts!

However, life could not be so kind or easy, and it turned out that it was only when she didn’t want to find them that the Twins were nowhere to be found. To make matters worse, Sideswipe had agreed to swap duty schedules with someone else, so he would be busy all night, and she had no idea where Jazz was—she prayed he would randomly pop up like a ninja. The other Autobots she didn’t know well enough and they seemed to understand it was better to avoid her right now or at least not talk to her.

She ultimately decided that should at least try to do something productive as well as distracting, and for that she headed to the Medbay. Ratchet and Jolt were there as always, along with her three creations. Ever since Steeljaw’s creation, the two drones had settled down and behaved very well, so the medics had allowed them to stay out with their brother. Unfortunately, they would only serve a little to her needs, and she ended up asking Ratchet if there was anything she could study to help with the “Allspark” powers issue without actually using her powers. It was an easy task, and she found herself scrolling through a datapad with her creations right by her side, trying to wrap her mind around it.

Of course, that, like everything else, was working out just so _smashingly_ well that she most certainly did _not_ secretly wish someone would come and completely make her forget those certain things she wished she could forget. She considered having Ratchet use some kind of shock therapy, but that would lead to unnecessary questions. Then, by some miracle, her knight in white armor appeared just like the ninja she hoped he would be. He even whisked her away, taking her out for a stroll in the halls. Jazz didn’t ask her anything, either, although she knew he knew something was wrong. Rather, he listened to her request to just start talking, and he did. He went on about anything and everything, and none of it ever got near her mood.

Unfortunately, it had to end, as it was nearing time for bed. She dreaded it dearly, and even asked if Jazz could just talk to her until she fell asleep, but he told her it was best for her to go. Though she felt just a tiny bit betrayed by her white knight, she did as she was told and went to her room. Oh, the horror she felt as she could see the swirling, black torrent of her memories swooping into to consume her! There was no hiding from them either, but she could keep them at bay for a little while by screaming into her pillow. Teletraan worried over her, despite her angry reassurance she was most _definitely_ fine and not suffering from a complete mental breakdown over a certain-someone she should just forget for good. She wasn’t really sure how, but she managed to fall asleep.

It was a shame the next day wouldn’t be as good. In fact, in comparison, it was incredibly _worse_ than the first day. As soon as she woke up she was bombarded by thoughts of the young man—no, _certain someone_ — she wanted to forget, and it wasn’t just about the bad time. It was the good times—no, the memories from long ago that she would not remember and start to think maybe she should think about that certain someone— that she was starting to remember. They weighed even more heavily on her heart and mind, and were nearly impossible to fight back. It was like she was a rock trying to fight back the entire ocean! She was losing badly, but she wouldn’t break.

There was no helping her during her workout, which was the sloppiest she’d ever done even before she’d started wrestling in High School. There was just no keeping the earlier memories from coming and awakening that warm thumping in her chest. Again, the feeling was different from what it used to be, and when it was combined with certain memories it didn’t _ache_. At least, not in the way she thought it would. No, it was a different kind of ache, but it wasn’t painful—more like longing and—and…

When her thoughts got to that point she quickly pinched her arm, immediately pulling her from the depths. It was only temporary, and soon enough, that familiar, brown-eyed face would pull her back and make her remember what she didn’t want to—what she shouldn’t want to. This time there was no hiding it, either. There was no keeping a happy mask on her face as she went through her routine. There was no holding in the dour cloud that had formed over her. There was no hiding it from Marissa, either. No, the woman caught on right away, and probably would have the day before, too. She didn’t say anything at first, though. It was only once they’d started their lessons that she finally told Catherine that she should take the day off after her mind had “wandered” off for the fifth time and for far too long.

The redhead objected at once, affirming she was perfectly fine with the great desire to believe it, too, but her teacher saw right through her facade and turned the statement into a direct order. Authority being used, Catherine sulked her way back to the Autobot side, and again busied herself with reading up on sparks, all the while assuring both medics and her creations she was absolutely, positively _fine_ and definitely not having anything wrong with her. While her creations did not question, though remained by in comfort, her two medic friends pressed a bit further until she finally snapped back, and they let her be. Oh, she was sorry for it, but it was just too much with the memories weighing down and their questions only adding more and more weight.

Like before, Jazz came to get her, and by the way he exchanged looks with the two medics, he had given them hints of what was going on. A small part of her was mad at that, but the larger part was more preoccupied with confronting the memories and praying that her white knight could keep them at bay for even just a few hours. He did, and she was eternally grateful even if it really was just for a few hours. He released her at the same time as before, but only left with a kind embrace rather than words, and a smile that said so many words she didn’t want to hear. Then he was gone, and though Teletraan was there, the memories made it seem he wasn’t.

There were no screams this time; only multiple changing of her facial expression as memory after memory came. She recalled as far back as she could—to the time when they had first really met; the young man just a young boy sucking on his thumb and holding his teddy bear in his arms, while she—just a young girl—was following a loose dog on an “adventure”. She remembered how he had joined her and how they’d come home in a police car and freaked both of their parents out. She remembered the fun they had, and realized how funny it was now that she was older.

She remembered their junior high years, when they were becoming young teens not yet able to understand the adult world ahead of them. She remembered how she had felt such anger at the other boy from the park for picking on him; for insulting him and his family. She hadn’t let him go free, and shoved him so that he fell, only to have the bar underneath hit between his legs. Retribution had been served, but had only been short lived as the consequences came to mind. She let herself smile only a little as she remembered how they ran all the way home and hid in his room, praying the other boy’s parents wouldn’t call.

She recalled the years that were only months ago, but felt like ages, when they were two older teenagers verging on the edges of adulthood. She remembered how they played games; how they laughed; how they were happy like that. She remembered how the feelings had blossomed—like a sudden revelation; like it was natural. She remembered what it brought her, but the memory did not burn like it used to. No, that feeling was gone. It had withered and been smothered beneath the bitterness she had birthed, but that too was gone. Now there was something new—something that made her think of the young man more and more, and of the things she had with him. She knew what it was called, but she dare not utter it, lest it bring more chaos upon her.

And for the rest of the night, she refused to acknowledge the word, and refused to herself be completely consumed by those memories from that other world. She refused to let it affect her anymore, but it was a weak resolve that she possessed, and it could not last.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Shi—Catherine, look out!”

The words came too late, their progress stalled by the thick smog of memories that polluted her mind, and she snapped back only in time for the explosion to go off and spray a shower of sharp debris upon her, both large and small. The force alone was enough to throw her backward, causing her to slam into the ground, and the debris did the rest by scratching and bruising her body. She cursed and groaned as she rolled up, her vision a little dizzy. Two hands quickly grabbed her arms and hauled her up, dragging her over towards one of the “safe” zones where they set her back down and leaned her against the walls.

“ _Dios Mio_ ,” Fig breathed as he inspected her. “Are you okay, Catherine?”

Well, she didn’t really feel "okay" at the moment. Her head was still a little dizzy, the memories were really annoying and heavy, and her skin stung where’d she’d been hit. Oh, and her back and side still hurt from where she slammed into the ground, too.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… Just got the wind knocked outta me,” she rumbled back, shaking off the man’s hands. “What the hell do they put in the explosives? Isn’t this supposed to be a simulation? I’m about to whoop me some engineer ass.”

David chuckled beside her, “She’ll be fine, and they probably put too much of that liquid Energon stuff into that one. Ironhide’s warned them about that.”

“You have blood on your cheek,” Alexander noted as he helped her stand. The dizziness was gone, and the stinging was already going away, too. Allspark powers did wonders for injuries. Her cut on her cheek for example, had already stopped bleeding, as no more red came when she wiped at it.

“What happened back there, kiddo?” Jackson asked next, and similar notions appeared on their faces—especially Lennox, whom had come over after telling the engineers to pause the exercise.

“Yeah, you’ve been off lately. What’s going on?” Epps added, and she frowned, eyes dropping a little.

“I’m just… a little distracted. That’s all. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Lennox sighed, “No, you won’t. I’m pulling you out for this one and for the rest of the day.”

“What?!” she shouted, stepping forward, only to receive a hard stare and frown.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s affecting your performance, and I can’t have that. You just got hurt and if this gets worse, then who knows what will happen next. And since you won’t tell us or Faireborne, then the only thing left is to relieve you of duty until you fix this. Is that understood?”

“But—“

“Is that understood, _soldier_?” he barked sharply, causing her to flinch.

She held back a curse, “Sir!”

“Then head back to the start. Drop off your gear, visit the medics, and return to your quarters. You’re to remain there until I come get you tomorrow.”

She only nodded, biting her tongue to keep things from getting worse. She pushed past them, ignoring any sympathetic looks, and especially not meeting Lennox’s gaze, which had been both worried and commanding. She held in all the words that piled up behind her sealed lips, moving quickly to the start where she returned her gear, and then started back for her room. She avoided as many people as she could and nearly sprinted across the space between both sides, then down the hallway, and came to a sudden halt around the corner. With a wail of anger, she rammed the butt of her hand into the wall, and the curses came out as loud as a raging river. She pounded and pounded, and shouted and shouted until her burst of energy was spent and her hands were sore and red. Then she pressed her clenched hands against the wall as she bit her lip, fighting back rage that tried to come out as frustrated tears.

“Catherine,” a soft voice cooed, and then a hand scooped her up from behind. She knew who it was at once, but refused to let her eyes move from the floor to meet the blue optics. “I think it’s time ya stop tryin’ ta avoid this.”

“Dammit, Jazz, I _know_ , but I—I can’t! I can’t do it! I don’t want to! I don’t want to think about him! I don’t want to go back to that! I don’t! I don’t!” she shouted back, grabbing at her head.

“I think ya do. I think ya just too stubborn ta admit it.”

“No—this—I—we—we went our separate ways!”

“That don’t mean ya still can’t meet up again. Ya know that’s the truth.”

“But—no… I—Jazz…”

“And if all else, it can’t hurt ta try. Maybe it is too late, but maybe it ain’t, but ya won’t know unless ya try.”

She met his gaze then, saw the meaning of both the said and unsaid, and knew he was right. He was always right, though she didn’t want to admit it. He was so damned right, and she hated it because it meant she would have to go back. She would have to face that place; that possibility of pain again. She didn’t want to, but she had to. Her mind and her white knight wouldn’t let her refuse to any longer.

She sighed, defeated, “Okay. I’ll… I’ll try.”

“’Atta girl,” he smiled softly and lowered her back to the ground, right in front of her door. She looked up at him with a quizzical look, and his smile turned into a sly grin. She smiled back, squeezed one of his metal fingers, and entered into her room. She didn’t move forward, though; rather, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing in slowly and deeply. She let the memories come in without trouble now, and accepted anything and everything. She even pulled in the bad ones, but they weren’t as awful as she thought. Again, it was because the bitterness had been replaced by that new emotion; the one whose name she dreaded.

However, she could dread it no longer if she wanted to get through this—if she wanted to… to _try_. No, she could not deny it any longer. The feeling that ignited the yearning in her chest, while not the affection of a lover, was just as powerful and longing. There was no doubt:

She missed Sam.

She missed him a lot. More than she thought she would. It was ridiculous how much she missed him and their time together. She didn’t even love him anymore and she missed him so much! Or, rather, she wasn’t _in_ love with him, anyways. She wasn’t sure if she did love him in any way, but she did miss him. Dearly.

“Fuck me,” she sighed, pushing off the door to sit on her bed. At once, Teletraan trotted over into her lap, chirping up worriedly at her. She stroked his head affectionately and, breathing in once more, braced for disappointment. “Teletraan… Do… Do I have any messages from… from…Sam?”

The drone chirped with confirmation.

If her ears could do a double take, they would have. Instead, she blinked, and watched with increasing heartbeat as the drone transformed into a phone and brought up her e-mail display. She started to scroll through and it was only after a few seconds that she realized the list was _incredibly_ long and had maxed out her inbox. That wasn’t including text messages either, of which had been maxed out, too. She could scarcely believe it, and her heart beat faster. Disappointment was nowhere to be found as she opened up the oldest e-mail first.

_Hey, Catherine. It’s Sam. I guess that was obvious, huh? Ha ha… Um, well, uh, anyways. Um. It’s been about two weeks now, so I figured I could e-mail to say ‘hi’ or something. And um… Yeah. Hope training is going okay for you. School’s starting for me, so, y’know ‘yay’, but not really. So, uh, I’ll talk to you later._

_-Sam-_

She wondered how she’d missed this, but then she remembered she’d told her phone to not inform her of any of them. She nearly smacked her forehead for being so stupid. She shook the notion off, though, as she opened one further up.

_Hey, Catherine. So I was a little worried when you weren’t replying—thought maybe S-7 found you or something—but I asked ‘Bee and he says you’re pretty busy at NEST with training with Ratchet or Jazz or something. He’s, uh, actually a little sad you haven’t been talking to him, by the way. I mean, I’m just glad you’re having a good time, but he keeps bugging me about it, ha ha. Anyways, um… So school’s going really well, actually. It’s weird, but I’m doing a lot better! I’m even in some AP classes! You’d be proud. I think you finally rubbed off on me._

_Oh! I finally got ungrounded. My parents know how to stay angry for not telling them you were gone… They just miss you a lot. I, uh… I know the feeling. Um, speaking of parents… Yours are moving away. I think all the bad publicity the government gave them with the News did it. I mean, I guess being called insane because they think their ‘dead daughter’ is still alive would work on me, too… Anyways, um, so… Hope you get this and reply back. It would be nice to hear from you._

_-Sam-_

Sam missed her. He _missed_ her. A smile snuck onto her lips as she went to another e-mail.

_Hey, Catherine. Hopefully things are going good for you. I’m doing pretty good still._ _Mikaela_ _and I are still together, although I guess you don’t really care for that, right? Um, anyways, it’s weird without you around, though. I can’t really explain it, but it’s just… weird._ _Mikaela_ _doesn’t really get it because she wasn’t around before the whole Mission City thing… Some of the other kids at school have asked about it, though they think you died in the battle. the government did a good job. You’re kind of like a little hero around here. Kind of. They just know rumors and stuff. I think Miles spread some. Oh, speaking of Miles. I… well, he worded it weird, but I think he went on a trip to “find himself”????? I have NO idea. But, um, we actually kind of made up a little. He forgave me, anyways._

_Maybe one day you can forgive me, too. I know I don’t deserve it, but… a guy can dream, right?_

_-Sam-_

She didn’t even pause as she went through more e-mails, all mentioning some news from home about his life or what not. However, one constant throughout the rest of them was the fact that, in some way, he showed that he missed her and that he was sorry. He meant every word; there was no doubt in her mind that he did. It was Sam. Her Sam. Her best friend Sam. He wouldn’t lie to her like that. That fact became clearer with every new e-mail she opened, her eyes devouring the words and making her heart beat faster and faster with joy. She had to slow down on the last and latest e-mail, though, as she could tell at once it was very different from the rest.

_Hey, Catherine._

_I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Yeah, I know—me? Thinking? My grades would provide my evidence, though. Joking aside, I really have been thinking about what you said and what happened. You were completely right. I… I was an asshole to you. A complete and utter asshole that deserved everything he got. I don’t deserve you. You… Catherine, you’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. Hell, you’re my **only** best friend. It took me a long time (I’m a guy after all) to figure it out, but you’ve always been there. Even with the small things. You’ve always had my back, and right when you needed me to cover yours… I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a pompous ass. I was riding on my own glory, and I didn’t bother to see who I was rolling over. I should never have ignored you like that. I should never have broken your trust. **EVER**._

_And I know I have no rights to say this, but I can’t be happy. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I can’t be happy knowing that we can’t be friends still. I can’t be happy for me, and I won’t be until we’re friends again. I don’t care if takes until I’m a hundred and sixty-thousand years old—I want to have things back to how they used to. I do want you to be happy, but I want you to be happy with your life AND as my friend. We don’t even have to be best friends—I definitely don’t deserve that title—but I miss you, Catherine. I miss talking with you about stupid shit. I miss just hanging out at Burger King. I miss playing video games and having you kick my ass. I miss all of it._

_I know I don’t deserve you or your forgiveness, but I’m asking—begging if you want._

_I want my best friend back, Catherine._

_And you can call me a cocky bastard for this, but: Expect to find Samuel Witwicky waiting for you when you come back on break (yeah I found out from ‘Bee), whether you want him or not! And this time he’s not letting you go back until we’re friends again!_

_I’ll see you soon._

_-Sam-_

_(a.k.a. The dumbass)_

Catherine rubbed at her eyes, a half sob, half happy cry escaping from her lips. Her heart was like a wild animal trapped in a cage as she set Teletraan down and started laughing. She couldn’t believe it, but it was true—Sam _missed_ her. Sam wanted to be friends again. He wanted things back to the way they were. And she wanted that, too. She wanted all of that. It’s seemed so unreal, but there it was.

And then Teletraan buzzed.

Her eyes widened as she looked at the name, and her heart pumped faster. At once she was assaulted by countless thoughts, some of them shouting to pick up the phone, some telling her to be wary, and some reminded her of the dangers. The trickle of fear prodded its way in despite everything, but it was such a silly thing. Why should she worry now? _Because_ , a small voice told her, _it could happen again_. And she knew that small voice was right, but why should that matter right now? And who was to say it would happen?

The phone continued to buzz.

She picked it up in her hand, thumb hovering over the green button to accept the call. Who was to say it wouldn’t happen? It could very well. But he was so sincere.

The choice was before her; setting her upon a stone ledge hanging above a seemingly endless trench. Dare she take the plunge into the unknown of possible consequences—of possible repeats of the past? Or, was there something else down below? There was only way to find out, however. She would have to try.

“Hey, Sam.”

\----------------

**TMWolf:**

_And so our two heroes reunite after Catherine goes through a but load of denial! Did I tell ya that girl can deny things or what? :D I personally enjoyed the "la la la la" part, ha ha~ Jazz was there to help, of course, but there's only so much her big bro can do. Lennox had to pull his "daddy/commander" mode on her, too. Geez. At least the other guys can keep up the family-love appearance at all times when she's hurt._

_am's messages date back to the two weeks after she left her home, and then continue to basically a few days ago, which is the last message he reads. So, hopefully you guys are pleased with his progress. Sam has finally figured some shit out and learned. I do plan to alter Sam a bit for my story, so he's not the screaming little girl like he usually is in the movies. He's going to be a lot more mature this time around. Of course, it helps Catherine is his best friend :P So, yeah, that's a heads up for everyone. Sam will be better Sam this time around~ The first part being he made up with Miles who went on a Hippie-soul-search trip, and the fact he's writing these messages now :3_

_And a note on her parents: I don't elaborate, but, basically, NEST covered up her "leaving" by altering her records so that she is shown as DEAD, having been killing at the battle in Mission City. Obviously, that's not true, but then NEST continued to work by having her parents appear to be in denial of her "death", and considering just suffering a delusional state because of the trauma and stress. Since that, obviously, isn't true, they move out of the house to start new lives elsewhere. That's what Sam was referring to in his letter. It'll come up later on, but I wanted to have that known now rather than let people stay confused for a while. **That's the reason I made up years ago because I didn't really feel like exploring it lol**_

_And that's all folks! Be sure and let me know your thoughts and questions or whatever! :D_


	26. Dog Days Are Over

\-------------------------------------------------------------

As it turned out, she only spent a little while talking with Sam. It wasn’t because things had gone wrong. In fact, things had gone inexplicably _right_. She could barely contain her laughter over how shocked he had been to actually have her pick up, and then things got a little awkward for him seeing as he didn’t actually know what to say now that she had. She’d helped him out by casual asking what was up. That flabbergasted him for moment before he finally said something, and then they started talking like normal. By the end of it all, it was as if they were just like they used to be. Then, at the very end he became quiet, and she waited as he tentatively asked if they were okay. She told them they were, that she missed him, and that she would see him soon, too.

The moment the phone was hung up she’d let out a happy squeal and rolled around a bit. She had her best friend back! She had her Sam back! She didn’t care that things had the potential to repeat themselves, even though she was pretty sure they wouldn’t. Not this time. Not if she could help it. Besides, she wasn’t in love with him, anymore, so there was no need for her to hold back certain things. She could be as blunt as she wanted, and she would make sure he knew when he was being a jerk. Things would work out. She was sure of it.

Unfortunately, at that point she didn’t really know what else to do, so she decided she should apologize to a certain yellow-armored Autobot with the most adorable optics ever for ignoring him so long, and also to thank a certain white knight for always being right. Both replied quickly enough, though it was only Bumblebee that she started to really talk to, and even ended up playing a few games with him before he made her go to sleep—he knew how early NEST soldiers got up. She agreed, and, despite her new flux of happiness energy, she did manage to hit the hay.

Her mood was still good the next morning when Lennox had come a-knocking, and she was all too certain the day would go much, much better than the previous three.

Which was why, as she stood staring unhappily at the sulking—or it looked that way to her—Decepticon sitting behind an Energon field, she wondered how the hell it had come to this.

 _And here I was hoping to have a good day with Marissa_ , Catherine grumbled inwardly as she folded her arms across her chest for the billionth time. It turned out the bosses of her boss’s boss had other plans, and wanted to begin interrogating and “evaluating” Barricade now instead of a week later. That, of course, meant she had to be in the room, recording everything she heard on a government-provided laptop, and could also ask questions if they seemed fit. The government might eventually give her questions later on, but for now it was going to be left to the Autobots to get the necessary information. It was a good thing that Jazz was the interrogator then.

Just from the blank, uncaring stare Barricade had as he sat with his shoulders slumped, it would probably take a lot to get anything useful from the mech. She hoped he could sense her little icy daggers of hate that she was mentally burrowing into him. While yes, he _maybe_ deserved a second chance and she had said she might give him said chance, she would still be bitter about their first meeting. He’d tried to kill her for no good reason other than to find the glasses, which was _technically_ a pretty good reason considering their ultimate goal, but she refused to think so. The asshole didn’t deserve it.

“Alright, Barricade. Time we got ta startin’ this show,” Jazz spoke suddenly, catching both her and their prisoner's attention as he strolled over in front of the mech. The Decepticon did not stand, and his gaze soon returned to normal as he grunted in response.

“So, here’s the deal: Ya tell us all ya know ‘bout what’s goin’ on with the ‘Cons and we see if we can’t get ya outta that cell and in ta a room. ‘Course ya gonna have ta have a guard around ya, but it’s better than accidentally brushin’ in ta this Energon field ‘o yours and havin’ yaself scorthed up, am I right?”

Barricade snorted, “ _If_ your ‘Masters’ agree to it, you mean.”

“Glad ta see we’re on the same page. So. Let’s get crackin’ shall we?” the white-armored mech smiled with a devilishly sweet tint, and the ‘Con grunted in confirmation. “Alrighty. We’re gonna start out easy. Where’d you go off to durin’ da Mission City battle, ‘cause I don’t remember seein’ ya there.”

“If you must know,” the ‘Con began with a sigh, “it was strategy. I was to circle around to the far side without your knowledge and provide cover fire and guerilla tactics.”

“An what ‘bout after the battle, ‘cause you wasn’t among the remains?”

“With Megatron and the rest defeated, and Starscream fleeing like a coward, I saw no benefit to staying. I fled and hid away until now.”

Jazz was silent for a moment, thinking, and then asked, “Alrighty. Now on ta the important stuff: How ‘bout ya tell me why more ‘o ya buddies have been comin’ down here and messin’ with the place?”

“I think that should be painfully obvious to even the most unintelligent of creatures.”

“Ya mean that they’re lookin’ for somethin’? Well, I was hopin’ maybe ya might fill us in on some o’ the details, ‘Cade. Ya don’t wanna let a mech down, do ya?”

The ‘Con gave Jazz a look, “Your attempts to woo me into a sense of safety are terrible and discharge-worthy. Furthermore, you disgrace our kind by resorting to this planet's dominant species’ language just to satisfy that little insect’s duties.”

“Just tryin’ ta lighten the mood is all,” Jazz hummed, unfazed. “But a word a warnin’: this ‘lil lady is gonna be ya only way ta get outta this cell, ya know. She’s ya connection ta the top, so ya best show a ‘lil respect if ya don’t wanna stay in here.”

“I would rather rot to the core than become the flesh bag’s lap dog,” Barricade growled back, and turned his hot, red glare onto the redhead when she snorted.

“A little respect goes a long way,” she sang as she typed, meeting his optics with a raised brow once she’d finished her sentence.

“Courageous, aren’t you with your pet protecting you. Tell me, does the wound still hurt?” he purred, but she only smiled back.

“Actually, no. It doesn’t. How about that one I gave you?”

“Please. Nothing more than a sting from a turbobug. I suppose I should have finished you off back then—perhaps I wouldn’t have such bad luck now.”

The conversation was abruptly interrupted as Jazz suddenly spoke in Cybertronian with a harsh tone, one which made the Decepticon scowl, but make no reply. The white-armored Autobot looked to Catherine next; his optics and his emotions saying she should really not be talking. With both subdued, the Autobot retracted some of his harsh demeanor, but the casual banter was no longer there.

“I’ll ask again, Barricade: why are they still comin’? What are they lookin’ for?”

The ‘Con smiled slightly, revealing a few fangs, “That’s more like it, Autobot. If you must know, I’m not entirely sure. They are indeed looking for something—my communication links have told me this much. Whatever it is, it’s being kept secret from anyone who hadn’t original heard what it is.”

“Why? Did Megatron order it before his deactivation? O’ is it Starscream?”

“Both are equally plausible. Megatron always had secrets—things he never spoke of— and the Decepticons you’ve encountered are ones that have not been seen for some time. However, Starscream is also a good choice. It is possible he found something that might empower him here and get the others to follow him.”

“Ya should know some ‘o the info then. Ya ain’t a low-rankin’ ‘Con, Barricade.”

“You forget our faction isn’t built upon trust and the pathetic kindness that yours was. As I said, Megatron would keep much to himself and act in secret. As for Starscream… Well, he doesn’t trust anyone.”

“So ya have no idea what they might be lookin’ for?”

“No, but whatever it is, it’s powerful enough to keep them coming. They may have paused now, but it is only because they cannot afford to lose more troops or gain your attention. They will return, however, and it will most likely because they have found a trail. This is only the calm before the storm, Autobot.”

Jazz was quiet for a while before he spoke again, “So why’d ya ask for amnesty, then? If ya ‘Cons got somethin’ so great up ya sleeve, why join the side ya know is gonna lose?”

“Because,” he snorted, his uncaring expression returning, “I have no guarantees what they want will work. Megatron was growing insane, and Starscream is a power-hungry fool prone to rash actions with great consequence. It’s very possible he chases a myth, and then the faction will crumble. And even if it exists, you Autobots have proven you are more than capable of beating the odds. It makes it plainly obvious to see which side is safest to be on in the aftermath. Furthermore, if I hadn’t asked, you and your Masters would still be hunting me now.”

“Ya have any way ta find out what we want?”

“They cut me off long before I awoke on that plane. Starscream may be a fool, but he’s not stupid enough to let ‘traitors’ like me know their plans.”

There was a long pause of silence, prompting Catherine to glance up at the two, particular at Jazz who was staring straight at Barricade like he was testing him. There was coldness in the blue shine of his optics that she didn’t recognize and almost sent chills down her back. She could only imagine what the actual recipient of the stare was feeling, but again, she couldn’t tell just from the Decepticon’s gaze, which was unmoved, and she did not want to touch at any feeling he _might_ have. It final ended, though, as Jazz’s stance became less tense.

“For ya sake, I hope ya ain’t lyin’, Barricade,” he spoke, the friendly demeanor from before returning, and Catherine knew they were done. For now. “We’ll be back ta visit ya again real soon.”

“Make sure you put in a good word for me with your ‘Masters’,” the ‘Con smirked.

Jazz turned, casting a cool look back, “We’ll see.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Ugh! That whole thing with Barricade was just—ugh!” the redhead growled as she threw herself backwards on her bed, Teletraan in his phone form clutched in one hand.

 _“I can’t believe he actually surrendered! I mean—I wouldn’t have thought he would considering… you know,”_ the voice of Sam Witwicky resonated from the drone’s speakers.

“Don’t remind me. I still don’t like him for that,” she huffed and lifted her free arm to examine the scar. “It doesn’t hurt at all or anything, but it does look weird still and just the whole trying to kill you and me thing.”

_“Did you at least learn anything?”_

“Pssh… No. I bet he _is_ lying, too, despite what Jazz said. Still, he deserves a chance or whatever. He might even get out of his cage eventually so I’d kind of _have to_ give him one. I guess. Argh! You have no idea how lucky you are right now, Sam.”

 _“Oh, I know,”_ he teased and she rolled over to shoot a glare at the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. I-got-it-good-over-there. Gets to sleep in on weekends, stay up late all night, doesn’t have to worry about Decepticons, has his Mom making good home-made food, and he’s not single to boot! Lucky duck. Speaking of relationship status—subject change powers, go! Anyways, how’s it with Mikeala? You still her boy-toy?”

She could tell he was uneasy as he replied, _“I’m not her boy-toy! And we’re, um, we’re doing good, actually…”_

“Sam,” she began with a sigh, “you don’t need to feel awkward about talking about her. I am completely and utterly okay with it. I mean it. You’re not that cute, anyways.”

_“Ouch! That hurts, Catherine!”_

“Oh, it’s not you, Sammy. It’s that clean-shaved chin of yours. I like a _real_ man with some facial hair. It gives them that rugged look like how Viggo Mortenson and Gerard Butler have it, and you just don’t cut it, Sammy. Can’t even grow a mustache, poor baby,” she grinned, and she could just see him huffing indignantly on the other side.

_“I can grow one! I just have to shave every morning, thank-you very much!”_

“You mean your legs?” she replied at once, laughing when he quickly rejected her. “Ah, but no, seriously, I’m okay with it. Really, I am. I’m glad you’re happy with her. You need someone to make sure you don’t become a dull, dull boy with all your little boy hormones. I bet Ratchet would just have a field day with you.”

 _“Oh my God! Catherine!_ Really? _Come on! This is not a conversation I’m going to have with you!”_

“Sam, I’m at a base surrounded by adults of both sexes with more hormones than you’ll ever produce in your lifetime. Sex jokes are like a must around here. And, dude, you’re like seventeen now. You should be all about the ‘that’s what she said’ or some other sexual innuendo jokes or something.”

_“I just happen to be a gentleman, thank-you very much!”_

“You still scream like a girl,” she laughed, and, after a few moments of silent treatment, she added, “Oh, Sam, don’t be grumpy now. I’m just doing my job as your best friend _ever_. I have legal right to tease you as much as I want, no matter how much it hurts that adorable little pride of yours. Also, you leave yourself wide open, _amigo_.”

He sighed in defeat, _“Alright, alright. You’re right. As usual. But jeez—do you have to be so brutal? And what about you, hmm? I hear from ‘Bee you’re getting friendly with the Autobots. Huuuh?”_

“What? Dude. Sam. That’s… That’s like—urgh. That— _dude_. They’re my _friends_. I mean just—Dammit, Sam! I’m going to have to wash my brains out with acid now! Ugh! You asshole!” she wailed.

 _“Me?_ You’re _the one who thought of them like_ that! _You’re nasty!”_ he laughed, victory finally in his grasp.

“Touché you slippery bastard, and yes, I’ve been getting ‘friendly’ and _only_ friendly. Except with those two little farking poser turds! They’re so damn annoying!” she growled, imagining herself throwing a shoe at them whilst they annoyed her.

 _“Skids and Mudflap? I’ve heard of them. Ha ha! Sucks for you! It’s karma, I tell ya. You shouldn’t tease me so much_ ,” he purred, no doubt waggling his finger at her.

“Oh, har har. Watch yourself, Sam. Bumblebee might not be at our base, but he is still under Prime—and thus NEST’s—jurisdiction, and since I’m going to be liaison eventually, I will have some authority over him. You just might find yourself punked by a yellow Camaro one of these days!”

_“Pssh. ‘Bee wouldn’t do that to me.”_

“Sam, you seem to forget I am very good at making friends with Autobots. I think it’s quite within range for me to swoop and steal your transportation,” she purred and could almost smell the fear coming from him.

_“Catherine. You, uh… you know I love you, right? And that you’re the most amazing person in the world, right? ‘Cause, uh, you are. Like, for real. Seriously. No Joke.”_

“You may stop groveling, Sam. I have retracted my punking plans, so you can relax. I couldn’t do that without me being there, anyways.”

 _“Ugh. That’s even worse… By the way—when_ are _you going to be able to visit? I know it’s confidential, but you said Teleturanasaura-something was, uh, ‘safe’ for you talk about the super-secret NEST stuff, right?”_

“It’s _Teletraan_ , but nice try, and he is safe, and I don’t really know. I think Lennox said we’d be staying here for about eight months to complete training and preparations, then we’d start the whole ‘holiday breaks’, so I guess probably not until next year. Man, I’m going to miss your Mom’s Christmas goodies! I love her brownies…”

_“Well, whenever you’re able to come, I’ll make sure she makes some then. It sucks you won’t be able to come back for forever, though. It’s really boring around here when I’m not out with ‘Bee or Mikeala…”_

“No manly buddies?”

_“Yeeeah… Apparently having a girlfriend does not make you ‘one of the guys’. I think it had the opposite effect. Of course, ‘Bee’s little stunt with Trent-dirtbag didn’t help…”_

She laughed, “Oh yeah! You wrote about that in one of your e-mails… Jerk got what was coming for him, and don’t worry ‘bout it, Sam. It’s High School. Once everyone’s all grown up they’ll be friendlier. At least, that’s what my NEST buddies are showing me.”

 _“So I guess being a NEST employee is a pretty good life?”_ he hummed, and she snorted back.

“Please. You do _not_ want to work here. All the government ‘overlords’ are so overlord-y, you have to work your ass off even more than a wrestling workout, and you have to deal with all the unfriendly people, not to mention Autobots who act like children sometimes! And I’m not even official!” she exclaimed and fell back on her bed again, frowning. “I kind of dread the day I become the actual liaison and have to do paperwork and settle arguments—uuuuugh.”

_“I don’t suppose you can quit?”_

“No. Not really. Not after all the trouble I went through to get here, and my pride wouldn’t let me either. Nope. I’m going to stick it out and do my best. Besides, I still gotta figure out the whole you-know-what thing,” she replied, holding up her free arm to activate her powers, lighting up her arm with the glowing, blue lines.

_“True… Well, just don’t forget to come home and visit once in a while, okay?”_

“I won’t… Although considering my parents are gone, my ‘home’ isn’t actually there,” she snickered. “Huh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

_“You have your reasons, so it’s cool, and you know you’re always welcome to stay here if you want. My Mom would love to have her ‘other kid’ around. Dad, too, although he’d never admit it.”_

She smiled, “Your Mom and Mrs. Lennox will probably have to fight for me then. She’s determined to make sure I stay with them during breaks.”

He laughed, _“That would be the fight of the century! Whatever work’s is cool. He doesn’t live far, so we can still hang.”_

“Yeah, definitely. I can’t wait.

 _“Same_.”

“And Sam?”

_“Yeah?”_

“It’s good to hear from you.”

_“Yeah. You too.”_

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

Days began to turn into weeks very quickly after Catherine’s reunion with Sam, and it wasn’t long before weeks turned into months. It was as if everything was rushing to finish before some horrible catastrophe was to come, although there were so signs of such impending doom. Still, the pace around NEST seemed to increase rapidly, and it was a wonder how anyone kept up. One thing was for certain, though: the days of relaxation and easy-going were done and over.

When one month had gone by, it was finally time to integrate both sides into teams. Autobots and Humans would finally be working together, and there was definitely some awkwardness to the whole situation. Most humans were okay—having become accustomed to their presence after so many months of being here—but some were still uneasy amongst the gentle, metal giants. They would work together, though, and that would have to do for now. Catherine felt a little bad for some of the Autobots, though. She knew many of them—mostly the younger ones—were very eager to work with the humans.

One such mech was her little Steeljaw. Due to some cruel irony, most of the humans seemed more afraid of him than even the intimidating Ironhide, and she soon found out it was because he was basically a gigantic, metal lion rather than somewhat human-looking. It was silly, but the young mech understood and refrained from being forward or showing his disappointment.

The rest were generally accepted very well, their personalities proving to be easy to get along with, except for a few anti-social persons, and once the initial week of integration had passed, teams were assigned. Each Autobot would be given a group of humans they would “train” with, either giving them experience fighting an actual Cybertronian, or working with them in simulated battles. Autobots would have multiple teams— seeing as the humans greatly outnumbered them—and Catherine’s was assigned to Ironhide, with Lennox being the leader of the stronger of the two front-line fighting units. She had hoped to maybe get Jazz or Sideswipe, but she was content with Ironhide. The old mech was a good teacher, and always had the welcoming war-veteran grandpa demeanor about him.

Catherine was thankful Steeljaw was able to be assigned a team, although not a fighting one. He was to be sent out to aid the guards protecting the shard further out on the island. There he would patrol around, using his more advanced sensors to check for danger. It also helped the men and women there were more tolerant of his form and eventually came to enjoy his presence. Of course, he always preferred to be around his creator and brothers when he was off duty. Unlike him, the little drones stayed within the Med Bay or with her—their mischief temperament having been quelled by Steeljaw— as Teletraan always did. The little guy was very useful for communications, and her team approved, as they thought he was another “experiment” with the shard like Steeljaw.

And so the new schedule came about: workout in the morning, and Autobot training in the afternoon and evening on every other day. She still kept up her lessons with Marissa, and those too seem to speed up, but this time it was for a doom that was very much so real and coming ever closer. She’d finally been informed that she would be instated as the official NEST liaison in February, so it was imperative that she finish her lessons within the few months remaining in the year. Of course, that meant mental hell for Catherine as she was forced to finish her studies up with everything, and actually going around with her teacher to practice her duty. There was one nice new thing to her studies, though: she now had Optimus or Jazz joining in on their lessons.

Now that she’d gotten through the normal lessons and learned most of what she needed for NEST, she needed to learn more about the Autobots’ requirements of a liaison. While it wasn’t the best of times spent with them, she did enjoy their presence, and both Autobots were incredibly patient as she attempted to understand their alien customs and culture as best related to human ones. One of the more troublesome ones was the whole ‘spark mate’ business, and for better understanding of it and a few other things, they directed her to Ratchet. Otherwise, most of it was easy, as their social aspects weren’t far off from human ones, and their government was akin to ones found in the past. Whatever the case, she learned and could work with it to help solve problems.

Despite Barricade’s presence at the base, she still worked with her Allspark powers. However, she didn’t dare try actually using them. Rather, she spent her Sundays with Ratchet, Jolt, and her creations studying sparks, hoping that the absorption of the knowledge would allow her to create one in the future without having to “borrow”. She was given many diagrams of all of the sparks on the base, noting every difference she could—it was difficult when she couldn’t read “wavelengths” like Ratchet could. Her organic body just couldn’t assess the data like his central processor could. To her, they all looked like wavy lines, and she couldn’t “feel” the wavelengths with it being a hologram. She refused to quit, though, studied anything and everything, and listened to any talk of what Ratchet might have to say about them. It would all work out in the end—it had to.

Of course, things got a little awkward around base when Barricade was finally allowed to walk around at the end of the month, although with a guard at all times. None of the younger mechs were given the job. Even though the mech had apparently not lied and had been the picture of excellence in behavior in his month-long imprisonment and interrogations, he was still not to be trusted with the less experienced. The ‘Con—or rather, _neutral_ now—took it with disinterest, as if it were the obvious course of action, and spent most of his days either in his new quarters or wandering around on the Autobot side. It did nothing to soften his mood—not that Catherine expected him to suddenly become a happy, honorable mech—and he was always coarse, sharp, and sarcastic to whomever happened to meet him. Thankfully, the redhead managed to rarely ever encounter the ‘Con, and if she did, the guard made sure to keep him moving so that if he said something it was snarky, but short. He was also still ignorant of her powers, of which she was assured when she finally decided to reach out to his emotions once, and of which she was relieved.

Even with such a busy life, she did manage to find free time to spend with her friends, and to continue strengthening her renewed friendship with Sam. While she couldn’t call him all the time, she did as much as she could. It was technically a “no-no”, but Teletraan was a safe and secure line, and she was never found out—except by Jazz who warned her not to call so much. It was strange, but she felt as though things were actually better now; it was so much easier to talk to him, and she didn’t feel the need to have to talk in a certain way and not do something stupid. He enjoyed it, too, if his laughter was hint enough, or his kind, loving comments when it wasn’t all just fun and games. Of course, it wasn't the love of a lover. She had meant it when she said she was over him, and now it more of a platonic love. She soon realized that was exactly what she wanted from him. Sam was her best friend, and that was how it was meant to be.

Sam wasn’t the only target of her attention, though. After regaining her friend, an energy within her she didn’t even knew she had awoke; it made the passing weeks and months easier and more enjoyable even at their hardest. Talking with people was easy and she couldn’t recall seeing many unhappy faces. Oh, she had no illusions that they weren’t there, but for the most part, she was surrounded by allies. Her team, especially, whom were all her brothers and uncles with Lennox as her father, of course. She managed to make good friends amongst the other humans, and even found herself spending time after training with them rather than just the Autobots.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t spend time with the Autobots at all—no, she still spent much time with them. Ironhide and Jazz became the forefront of her attentions, the older mech being her combat teacher, and the latter being her brother-guardian. She made sure to visit many of the younger mechs, too, whom had begun to become fond of her as well, although Skids and Mudflap were generally—if not always—avoided. They had yet to understand she loathed their “groveling”, as she put it. She sometimes had the sinking feeling they knew she hated it and it was payback. Thankfully, Jazz or one of the other mechs would come to her rescue. Optimus even helped out by reprimanding them once, which kept them away for about a week before they were up to their old antics again. Even Bumblebee attempted to help by giving her tips, but they were usually too much, and so the two of them namely ended up just talking about random things. He was the same ‘Bee as always, and was just another addition to the Autobot family she had formed.

There was one letdown amongst the joy, though she refused to let it get to her as much as possible: Sideswipe. She didn’t know why, or, at least, _exactly_ why, but the mech had become distant. It had started about a month after she’s reunited with Sam, and she had to wonder if it was because she’d spoken too much about her friendship with him and maybe the mech had become jealous or felt as if he were being pushed away. It wasn’t true, of course, but whenever she tried to get anything from the silver mech he would assure her everything was fine and change the subject. That is, whenever she was able to find and talk to him.

He had taken up seemingly ignoring her, which was the greatest source of the disappointment. Slowly, but indefinitely, their time at their “spot” started to become nonexistent. At first, it was only because of scheduling, but soon, even when he had time, he would reject her asking for “talking” with some random, but plausible excuse. Eventually, she only ever met him a few times a week, and by the time the second month had gone by it was down to nearly once a week. Not to mention she rarely saw him in the halls anymore, and sometimes he only paused to greet her and then rolled off as if he had something to do. It hurt more than she thought it would, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She had a feeling it wouldn’t do any good, especially when she’d felt him clam his emotions up when she’d tried for the first and last time.

His painful absence made her thankful things were very busy around NEST, and it only got busier as the major holidays of the year began to roll closer. Although they were on a super-secret base, a Thanksgiving dinner was held, and while not everyone celebrated, they did enjoy the food. Then Christmas came from right around the corner, though no one could really go get presents and not everyone celebrated it either. The lack of snow for some didn’t help either, but wet sand did nicely for “sand-ball” fights, and there was a general atmosphere of holiday cheer amongst the crowds. And when the favored day of the year came, much celebration was made amongst the teams, and there was merriment to be had. The New Years that followed was equally enjoyable, even though there was no beer to make it even better, but soda did just fine.

While celebrations died down for some, Catherine’s continued as January rolled in and her birthday came with it. Her team and friends happily celebrated her being nineteen—unbeknownst she was really seventeen—and the cheers would continue on for the next few days as the General gave them the news that she was going to be instated as the official liaison. She wasn’t sure whether to cheer or groan, but she was at least glad that Marissa would stick around for a few more months to make sure she did okay and that she could handle the job. She thanked God for that, and was all too happy to have the woman by her side as she began her new duty, listening to complaints once she was finished with her training, and talking with Marissa, whom had begun to act as the temporary NEST liaison as well.

And then the third month came tumbling in, showing no signs of time slowing down thanks to a message received from the Wreckers at NASA. Apparently, more Autobots were coming to Earth and would be arriving within a few weeks. No names had been said aloud, but some mechs were already getting excited for the four new arrivals. Catherine was not quite as excited, discovering the paperwork and issues involved, but she was able to manage through with the help of Marissa and Optimus. Again, she thanked God for their help.

Yet, despite her distractions and Sam there to listen to her woes and help cheer her up, she still couldn’t help feeling the great absence of her silver companion, and became more and more determined to find out why. She didn’t want to lose any more friends, and she was going to make sure of it one way or another— whether he wanted or liked it or not.

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**TMWolf:** _And that's chapter 25! Just a heads up- Kind of a huge cluster f*ck of the brain/emotions coming up, so expect, uh, yeah. That's pretty much what you can expect. Any who, do not be discouraged for Sideswipe and Catherine, my readers! I assure you think I make happen do so for a reason~ :) Just give it some time and you'll see what I mean._

_To sum up what's happened in the past four-or-so months: Catherine becomes friends with Sam/Bumblebee again; Autobots integrated; Barricade interrogated and allowed to roam with guard; Holiday fun; Catherine's birthday; Catherine finally stepping into her job; Sideswipe drifting; Four new arrivals. So, they've been pretty damn busy. And I know this makes it seem like things are going crazy fast, but I promise you it will slow down a lot and focus more on the characters in a few chapters! I just needed to get through all of this time to get to certain events and what not :3_

_And so now to some tidbits on the story. I, personally, enjoyed writing Catherine and Sam's conversations. That's actually how I talk with my friends, ha ha. I love to tease them and make little jokes like that. It's fun :) And yes- she does find thinking about having a Cybertronian boyfriend weird. Of course, we all know that's probably going to change, fwahahahaha~_

_Also, I changed up Barricade's stories from the actual canon. Of course, his story post-Mission City is pretty jumbled up and kind of contradicts itself so I took the liberty of making my own for him. Just an FYI for anybody who's looked up on what the hell happened to him and knows his various stories. I needed it anyways since he's definitely not being canon with coming to Diego Garcia, ha ha. xD_


	27. We Build Then We Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Republic - WE Build Then We Break
> 
> **Warning -- some mature language this chapter

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Not for the first, and certainly not for the last time, Catherine wished she hadn’t signed up to be a liaison. She was also getting tired of constantly thinking the phrase or something similar to it. It was happening far too much. So were the piles of paper in her “office”, which was essentially a large closet fitted with a desk, a shelf, and a spot on the desk for unfinished and finished papers. She preferred to call it Alcatraz or Hell, but it was her new life, or, at least, half of it. Unfortunately, being half full of work on the incoming Autobots was enough to nearly take over the rest.

“Well, at least things are going kind of smoothly. The vehicle orders made it through, so they should get here the same time the Autobots do,” she mumbled aloud. It wasn't to anyone in particular, although Teletraan was with her. The little drone chirped, crawling over to the paper as she read through it, and peered at it curiously. He wouldn’t understand it, but he did always remember all of it and could show her if she wasn’t near it later. He also provided a nice distraction when she needed it.

“I wonder why the extra one, though—and it's a Lamborghini, too?” she hummed, tapping at the car brand name with her pen tip. “I guess one of them couldn’t decide or something… I’m surprised the government agreed to buy it or give it or whatever, though. They’re greedy little bastards I tell ya, Teletraan.”

The drone beeped, happy to be called, and then proceeded to flip the page for her. Just as he did so, the door opened to reveal the face of a young, dark-haired man. Surprised fluttered across his face at the sight of the drone for a moment, but then he calmed down and stepped in. Teletraan regarded him only for a moment before climbing onto Catherine’s shoulders as had become customary. The other humans were accustomed to his presence and even accepted him, but they were still often surprised by the closeness she and Teletraan had. The base was still working on those Human-Cybertronian relations, too. She knew it had taken the young man some courage to walk all the way over here to come get her.

“Hey, Michael. What’s going on this time and who’s involved?” she sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes.

He chuckled, “I’ll give you one guess.”

She groaned, “It hasn’t even been two days! Who the hell did they start fighting with this time? And why are they still allowed to lead a team? I specifically asked Morshower to not assign them anybody!”

“Look, I’m just a soldier,” he smiled playfully as she stood. “I don’t know anything about all that stuff. That’s you, the Commander, and the General’s area.”

“Don’t remind me or I’ll sick Knock Out on you. He’ll believe me if I tell him you guys aren’t looking as good as the other teams.”

Michael winced, “Okay, okay! I won’t! Just don’t give him any more incentive! He’s already driving us crazy with trying to be perfect. Ugh!”

Catherine snickered as she walked with him out in the hall. There were a few other humans walking here and there, but despite it having been about two months since the integration, very few humans came around. Those that did either got along well with the Autobots, weren’t at all uneasy about coming, or, as it was in the case of her companion, needed something and had the balls to go get it. It wasn’t a great step forward in relations, but it was something.

“Alright, so where are the little twerps? I’m going to see if I can get Ironhide to back me up on this and knock ‘em around a bit,” she inquired as they turned the corner, heading to the main hall heading to the divide between sides.

“The main training hangar, of course. They started getting into fight over who got to do what and then it just escalated into something… else. No one’s sure what they’re fighting over anymore, and they’re disrupting the rest of us. Knock Out tried to help, but, uh, they started to gang up on him so he just got himself and his guys out of there.”

“Smart mech. Alright. Teletraan, ask Ironhide to come down to the training room, code Mudskid,” she instructed, and the little drone went to work at once. She glanced over at Michael, and found an odd expression on the young man’s face. She mentally shook her head as she raised a brow at him. He quickly flushed and looked away, caught.

“S-sorry… it’s just, y’know—you act like it so easy, but they’re… _y’know_ ,” he mumbled, rubbing one of his arms uneasily.

“They’re living, ‘sentient’— as Prime would put it— beings, Michael. The only difference is in size, what they’re made of, and their abilities. There’s no need to be bothered by it, especially when they’re just out to help us fight the Decepticons and keep our planet safe.”

“I… I guess,” he mumbled, took a few moments to recover, and then smiled. “You’re really cool, Catherine. You just take it all so easily. It’s… cool.”

She grinned, “Why, thank-you. You’re not doing too bad yourself. You’ll be ‘cool’ soon enough, too.”

He chuckled back, but once she looked away he face became set in a disappointed frown and a red tint trickled onto his face that matched the rising heat in his cheeks. She didn’t see it, however, and remained oblivious as they strolled through to the open space between sides. Instead of heading through the entrance as most did, they made toward the “Back Door”— named for the fact it did not have a landing pad for the main helicopter transports— and followed the pavement path down to the only open hangar.

She could hear it before she saw it; the obnoxious rancor that passed for voices was unmistakable and loud. Her lips quickly set into a scowl once she saw the two jabbing fingers into one another’s chests while their faces were nearly pressed into each other. The soldiers were as far as way as they dared without being completely out of the loop. Although everyone pretty much found them the most annoying things on Earth, they couldn’t deny that they loved watching the conflict. The only thing missing was popcorn and an authoritative figure to yell at them. While the former would not be provided, the latter was on its way in the form of a fairly pissed off redhead.

“Move!” she barked, and it only took one look at the blaze in her hazel eyes for the men and women to part, letting her through. There were some laughs and calls of excitement of what was to come, but she could care less as she came up to the Twins, stopping within perfect yelling distance. She set her hands firmly on her hips, glaring at the two of them as they continued to quarrel, blissfully unaware of her presence.

“Ya won’t be talking so tough when I shove my fist up yo tail pipe, sucka!” Skids growled, raising his pale-red fist up at his Twin. Mudflap was hardly fazed as he snorted.

“Like a piece-o-slag like ya would have the skills ta do that. Not like ya would have time ta do it either—I’d have ya cryin’ to ya Mamma so fast!”

“We got the same Mamma ya dumb aft!”

“Ya got the shit end of the Spark stick then, fugly!”

“Wanna say that again, aft face!”

“What. The. _Fuck_!” she shouted, tired of the bull-crap. The hangar’s large space did wonders, causing her shout to boom and echo loud enough that the two Twins stopped at once and turned to face her with wide optics. Whatever anger they had seemingly evaporated, and then reformed just as quickly into delight as they all but scrambled over to her, idiotic grins on their faces.

“Damn girl! It is nice ta see ya today!” Mudflap whistled, and Catherine was pretty sure she felt a muscle in her brain twitch.

“Yo, yo, ‘Cat. Skids in the house and he is ready ta please,” the other purred. If she could, she would have smacked both of them upside the head. Luckily, her make up for that was on its way. She just had to stall before they figured that out.

“Would you mind explaining to me why the hell you are having _another_ fight?! Didn’t we talk about this yesterday? Are you two really _that_ stupid?”

“Aw, don’t be mad gurl—”

“You will address me as ‘ma’am’, Skids. The same applies to you, Mudflap. And you will stop this nonsense. Right. Now. You are supposed to be here training your teams—not fighting like a bunch of tantrum-throwing brats!”

“But bro here keeps saying how my team is full of pussies and that he’s gonna whoop us just ‘cause he got more males then I do, and I can’t take that lyin’ down gur—er, Ma’am!” Skids wailed, crouching down lower to her level. “Ya gotta feel for me; I had ta do it! Pride of the pack was at stake! And we all know I can whoop his ass.”

“Please, she ain’t no fool—she knows who’s the best here and it ain’t you, ya piece a tin! You and ya team ain’t got shit on mine!” his brother barked back with a haughty smirk. “And we was about ta show ya, too, if ya hadn’t turned into a pussy and started stallin’.”

“Who you callin’ a pussy, pussy?!” the previous brother growled, possibly attempting to bare his “teeth” at Mudflap, but failing to look all that intimidating with how goofy they were. Regardless, the two brothers were beginning to get after one another again, this time their faces bumping together. They thankfully didn’t start to exchange blows as they usually did, and she suspected it was because they wanted to put on a “dominance” show for her and prove who the better of the two was. It was too bad for them she didn’t give a rat’s ass, considered both of them complete idiots, and they were both ignorant of the sounds of metal feet on pavement heading straight for them.

Catherine, however, was not, and neither was the crowd behind her as she looked up into the even more annoyed optics of Ironhide. If there was anything the old mech hated more than Decepticons, it was someone screwing around in _his_ training room. And, indeed, it was _his_ room, as no one disobeyed his orders in there without expecting a death wish.

The Twins didn’t want to die, but they were foolish enough to invoke Ironhide’s wrath to the point that he didn’t kill them, but he would give them a piece of his mind, which included grabbing them roughly by the scruff, knocking them together even more roughly, dragging them out to the area facing the beach, and launching them out into the ocean. His form was perfect as they landed with two large splashes, which were followed by loud cheers and laughter. The redhead didn’t join in as she walked over to Ironhide, but she did nod up at him.

“Thank-you, Ironhide. Hopefully that will cool them down, if only for a minute,” she sighed, shaking her head as the two small mechs began to scramble their way out of the water, cursing the black mech’s name. The recipient of their insults merely continued to scowl and glower as they crawled to their feet, their optics refusing to meet his. They still grumbled under their breath as their systems worked to flush the rest of the water out their systems.

“You shame yourselves!” Ironhide growled, causing the two to flinch. “This is a place to hone your skills—not squabble like immature sparklings!”

“Sorry,” the two mumbled together, and the black mech snorted.

Catherine took her turn next, “Look, if you two want to fight and be stupid then do it on your own time. This room is for you and the soldiers you’re going to be working with to train and learn to work together. I don’t care how stupid or pointless you might think it is or whatever the hell goes through your heads—You. Need. To. Train. Just think what would happen if you went into the field right now? It’d be a catastrophe! These men and women are counting on you to help them fight the Decepticons, but as you are now… Well, I’m going to have to insist Prime pull you out. You’re more of a danger than anything else, and we can’t have that here. Do you understand?”

The two mechs had long since looked at her, optics wide and hurt as if she had struck them, and once she finished, they numbly nodded with glum expression. Not giving them time to say anymore, Ironhide quickly ushered them back to their groups and, undoubtedly, sent them a training punishment for them to do over the comm. link. The humans wouldn’t suffer anything for it, but the Twins would have to do extra work with the older mech when they were alone.

“Thanks, ‘Hide. Hopefully everyone can get their work in now, myself included. I’ve still got so much paper work to get through. I actually miss training my ass off every day because of it!” she exclaimed, smiling half-heartedly up at the black mech.

He looked down with a grin, “Which is one of the reasons why I’ve remained as a soldier all my life.”

“No kidding. Well, anyways… I guess you better stick around to make sure they do their work and all. I’ve got get to going now that I’m no longer needed. I plan to go visit Ratchet later, but, again, I’ve got to get through that paperwork first. Ugh—I should have just said I wanted to be a soldier!”

He chuckled, “That would not have been wise. Would you like an escort back?”

“No, I’m good, but thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow for training,” she smiled and waved as she headed off towards the sidewalk. Ironhide nodded rather than waved, then stalked his way over towards the Twins to watch as they managed to get things going.

Catherine was almost out of sight when she heard a familiar voice call her name and turned to find Michael jogging towards her. She could tell at once he had something on his mind as he rubbed the back of his head nervously and had some trouble meeting her eye. She was accustomed to that, though; some of them found her familiarity with the Autobots intimidating, and she often made a show of her ability to keep them under her thumb, so she could understand any discomfort. She imagined there were other reasons, too, but for Michael it was definitely the Autobot factor.

“Hey, um, if you’re not busy later… Would you, um, want to go get dinner or something? It’s, uh, steak night n’ all,” he managed to get out, and she felt happy that he was doing his best to get over his insecurities to make friends with her. He was one of the few non-teammates that had managed to approach her and do so.

She smiled apologetically, “I’m _really_ sorry, but I’ve got plans tonight. Thanks, though! We can hang out some other time, I promise!”

“H-hang out? O-oh, uh… sure. Yeah. That sounds good. Um. See ya?” he smiled weakly, waving half-heartedly. She gave him a two-fingered salute and turned around, the shamed, disappointed blush on his cheeks going unnoticed.

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**-O-**

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“Okay. Done!” Catherine sighed with relief, tossing the last stack of paper into the finished pile and leaning back into her chair. She stretched herself for a good while, popping her back and rolling her shoulders, and finished with a good neck scratch. She’d been at it for about three hours now, but she’d finally gotten through all of it.

Most of the papers had been about a lot of deep legal issues that she often had to read more than once to make sure there weren’t any hidden agendas that would screw with the Autobots. From what she could tell, there were none, but that’s where Marissa would come in handy. The woman was far better at ripping apart the words than she was, although it was getting easier. Apparently every country of the world's governments were full of greedy and tricky bastards, though. There was always something about wanting a little extra-Autobot-this or Autobot-that. It was a pain, but someone had to do it to keep things safe.

It was especially so when it came to their technology. She’d gotten more than a few requests to see the “less-important” or “non-militaristic” types of tech, but she knew their goal wasn’t to just use it to help improve society. No, they’d try and most likely find a way to turn it into a weapon, and NEST did _not_ need any black market sales going on. She could just imagine the pandemonium it would cause and all the repercussions—she’d be drowned with paper work! Not only would dangerous alien tech would be out in human hands, but she had no doubts the Autobots would be revealed and NEST would be put in the lime light! None of them needed that, so it was a quick and firm “hell-fucking-no” for those papers. It was such a shame that many of them came from the United States.

 _Looks like they all have the S-Seven fever going on_ , she rumbled, glancing at the top papers, which had been about the very source of her lament. _And now even I’m catching word of Galloway, who happens to be the golden boy of the men who want their hands on it all._

A scowl quickly made its way onto her features as she thought of the man. While she hadn’t met him in person or even talked on the phone, his letters made _directly_ to her were enough to give a good picture of the man. He was arrogant, self-centered, and seemed to think himself a King. He had “welcomed” her to the job, but it was more like he was patting her on the head, telling her to be a good girl and do as told. Like hell she would. She couldn’t wait for his next letter, and even hoped he got a little moody in it. She was the Autobot’s liaison—not the United States', and she was certainly no one’s little lap dog.

An electronic chirp stole her thoughts away and she looked down at her little cellphone drone, whom had not taken a liking to her new mood. She quickly appeased him by smiling, stroking his head how he liked, and letting him crawl up to his favorite spot on her shoulder.

“How about we stop thinking about this God-awful job for a few hours by paying ‘ol grumpy-pants and Sir Electron a visit, eh?” she grinned, and Teletraan did his own version of a laugh—his latest ability—at her silly nicknames. No one save for the owners of the names, her creations, and herself knew about it, but it was a good source of fun for them nonetheless. The same could not be said for both medics, but there wasn’t much they could do. Ratchet had taken a liking to her too much, her lessons had become too important to just kick her out, and Jolt was under the command of Ratchet. She knew it was also because the blue mech had become fond of her as well, though he wouldn’t ever admit it.

Teletraan agreed, of course, and she gladly abandoned the room to head down the hall, turn a few corners, say hello and good-bye to anyone she passed by, and stroll through the human-sized opening the medic always had ready for her. Other humans were _technically_ allowed, but none dared enter after one accidently broke something and the medic had turned into the devil himself, releasing all Hell on the poor guy. That had not been her best nor favorite day on the job.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey guys!” she called out loudly as she sauntered in, and at once a familiar, feline-shaped head perked up from on top the medical table. In a matter of seconds the golden-framed, metal lion was pressing his head into her side, purring happily. Having clung to Steeljaw’s mane, Blaster and Cybermon quickly leaped over to clutch her arms, beeping and letting off delighted sounds or words. She laughed, just as happy to see them as they were to see her. She hadn’t been able to visit lately, and though Steeljaw kept his two older brothers company and brought them with him on duty sometimes, it wasn’t always enough. She was their mother—she had finally come to understand and accept it once Steeljaw had put it plainly, although with much awkwardness—and that was a very different relationship then brotherhood.

“You shouldn’t act so happy to see her, Steeljaw. The humans might think… oddly about it,” Jolt spoke up, having observed the loving display.

She snorted, “So long as we get all lovey-dovey in here, it’s fine. Only Lennox or my team would dare come in here after Ratchet’s fiasco, and they’re cool with it. Hell, they make fun of me for it.”

“Just be careful,” he replied sternly, but she knew he was concerned, too.

“We will,” Steeljaw relied while pressing his body against hers as she stroked his nape, just behind the mane. “And Ratchet has no issue with it, so do not worry so.”

“If only because it keeps her little glitch spawns in line,” the medic rumbled as he appeared from around the corner, a handful of datapads in his grasp. “Here are the files for today. These are Ironhide, Prime, and Teletraan’s sparks as requested for your comparisons.”

“Thanks, ‘Ratch. How goes that little experiment of yours, by the way? The one you needed to make Earth metal stronger, I think it was. I remember approving all those parts, anyways.”

He nodded, picking her and Steeljaw up, “Yes. While your powers are the more effective and assured way, our new circumstances make it impossible to do so safely, thus we need a way to work without your aid. In regards to progress… Well, let’s just say I really slagging wish Perceptor or even Wheeljack were here. The latter might blow it up a few times, but he’d still be able to get it done faster and better than I could.”

“It can’t be helped. Your expertise is in repairing Cybertronians, not creating matter-altering machines,” Jolt spoke with a shrug and frown. “Not to mention the material we work with isn’t up to par in the first place. It took us weeks to get that spark box up to Cybertronian standards, after all.”

“Which is why I was a little disappointed to find neither of them was in the list of new arrivals. Don’t get me wrong—all four of them are good additions, but only as soldiers,” the Chief Medical Officer sighed with a shake of his head as he set Catherine and Steeljaw down along with the datapads.

“Speaking of the new recruits—I haven’t actually gotten any names yet. They’re due in what—a week? Shouldn’t I, being the liaison and all, have heard them by now? Hell, I don’t even think the General knows who they are yet.”

Jolt answered, “It’s for security. You weren’t even supposed to hear about them arriving until last week, but some of the younger ones accidentally got word and, well, you saw how happy Knock Out was. He and Bluestreak are around the same age so they eventually met on Cybertron, got along well, and I’m sure you can figure out the rest. Anyways, in the event the Decepticons might be looking to target us or find this place, we’ve been meaning to keep everything low-key.”

“Makes sense,” she nodded, flicking one of the datapads on, causing a hologram of a spark to show up. “Explains why they’re landed _way_ off from the island in Africa. It’s a smart place to land, of course. Not too many things to see them in the more desert regions. So you said one of them is called ‘Bluestreak’?”

“Indeed, and his name, like all of ours, suit his designation. Beware his kindness—it is a mask for his deadly weapon,” the medic sighed with exasperation, pinching his brow for emphasis.

When Catherine raised a brow, Jolt quickly stated, “He doesn’t stop talking.”

“Ah. The others aren’t like that, I hope, for your sanity?”

“Thank the Allspark, no. Smokescreen is actually very intelligent, though a sly slagger at times. Springer is a good, intelligent fighter—Ironhide was happy to hear he was coming. He was even happier to hear Brawn was coming. They’re old war brothers, and Brawn’s one of the few mechs who can match Ironhide despite the grand size difference,” Ratchet went on, shuffling through his cupboards and drawers, gathering tools, materials, and started projects. “You should find them fairly agreeable—especially Bluestreak. I have no doubts he will be delighted to meet every single one of you while boring you to death as your eardrums melt away. A word of warning for Brawn—he will be grumpy most, if not all, of the time. Springer and Smokescreen won’t provide any problems. In fact, Smokescreen will most likely be instated as your partner. He’s worked as a ‘psychiatrist’ and ‘peace keeper’ of sorts before.”

“If he can help me deal with all the crap around here, then a thousand times ‘yes’!” she laughed as she activated the other two datapads and went about comparing them. She’d gotten a better idea of sparks over the past few months, learning what was missing from her previous creations and actual sparks. She knew she still wasn’t ready, though—she wasn’t sure she ever would be, but she was definitely closer to the goal than before. Something was still missing, however. She didn’t know what it was, but it was beyond her reach as it forever lingered on the tip or her tongue. It frustrated her to no end, but she managed to keep her calm by assuring herself she would find it if she only kept studying.

“So I heard you had to deal with the Twins again?” Jolt asked after a pause of silence while he stood beside his mentor, watching him work and handing him tools when needed.

The redhead sighed, “Yeah. They got into another stupid fight. Thankfully I got to them before that, and then Ironhide finished them off with a good dunk into the ocean to cool off. I imagine he’s got them doing exercises now.”

Ratchet groaned as he threw down a tool, “Slaggit all—haven’t I told you all _not_ to throw them into the water? The sediments can easily clog your systems and lead to rust. _Rust!_ Do you understand the repercussions and the difficulty of obtaining the substance I need to reverse the effects?”

“I already approved of your shipments, which should be here in a few days for both the protectant and materials to make that resistance stuff you wanted,” Catherine waved him off, getting an unhappy snort in return.

“Just be glad it’s not Cosmic Rust; then there would no saving them,” the electric-blue mech rumbled. “Granted, I don’t think anyone would mind losing them. It’d probably do us a favor.”

“Indeed. Unlike Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, they _aren’t_ very useful at all. Unfortunately, we need all the soldiers we can get, so they can’t have any ‘accidents’,” the Chief Medic hummed, not the least bit of humor in his voice.

“Ouch. I guess I better warn them before they succumb to death-by-Hatchet,” Catherine mused, earning a quick glare and muffled laugh.

“Don’t you have studying to do?” he growled as she smiled like a naughty little kid.

“Yes, Ratchet,” she sang, leaning herself into Steeljaw’s side, which was conveniently smooth and rounded in such a way it was perfect for lounging on while studying. The metal lion, of course, was happy to be of use to his creator, and he was always happy to have her stroke his neck as she studied comfortably. Her other three creations rested on her shoulders, looking over her material as well, though no doubt unable to understand it. It was important to their creator, though, so they obediently remained quiet and calm, not that their youngest brother would have let them act up. She was proud of her little group, and was proud to be their creator, too. Sure, it was still a little odd being called their ‘mother’—she was only seventeen—but it was only right, in a way.

She glanced up from her studies when she heard the medic make some gruff electronic sound—no doubt a curse in Cybertronian. She had yet to even come close to translating, as it was frankly impossible being an organic, but she had learned to understand tone. She wasn’t surprised he was angry—his project had been going on for a month now and neither he nor Jolt had been able to make a breakthrough on altering Earth metal to more accurately match Cybertronian. Metals here could be used, but they were nowhere near as strong as those back home, and, as he said before, it wasn’t safe for her to use her powers. Perhaps if Barricade hadn’t been here, then maybe, but now that he prowled the halls with a guard there was no chance of it. She wished she could help besides just trying to figure out what the bloody hell was wrong with her spark-making abilities.

“What do you think, Steeljaw? I practically know all the spots for each wavelength, but what am I missing?” she asked aloud softly, and the metal lion lifted its head, ears perked forward at attention.

“I’m afraid the answer is beyond my cognitive abilities, Catherine. I believe Lieutenant Jazz would be of more assistance, although he has refused to disclose any information he may have,” was his lamented reply, and the redhead pat him affectionately.

“Unfortunately. I do understand his secrecy and the need for me to learn on my own, but… well, you know my complaints. I don’t want to have to kill anyone to give life.”

“It would be… unproductive, and we all do not wish you to harm yourself, be it physically or mentally. I believe the humans would call it ‘heart’, but that is rather inaccurate.”

She chuckled softly, “You’re too smart for your own good. You definitely got some of Ratchet’s intelligence. Good thing you didn’t get his snarky traits.”

Steeljaw gave a toothy grin before settling down once more, only to have his head shoot up with surprise as the Medical Bay doors were shoved open. All occupants of the room turned and found the familiar silver frame of Sideswipe in the door way. At once, Catherine felt a hopeful joy spring into her, but quickly tempered it with the realization he most likely wasn’t here for her, but Ratchet or Jolt. His recent distancing from her had made sure of that, but she still kept her eyes locked onto him as he rolled in, ignoring Ratchet’s flaming ire at being disturbed.

“Unless you are ill, damaged, or truly are more stupid than the Twins then I suggest you leave at once before I turn you my newest invention,” the Chief Medical Officer growled as Sideswipe stopped beside Catherine and met his glowering gaze.

“I came to get Catherine,” he replied and looked down at the red head. “I, um, wanted to talk privately, if that’s alright.”

She almost sprung up, but managed to contain herself, “Sure. Mind keeping my things tidy and look after your brothers, Steeljaw?”

The metal lion nodded and then looked up at Sideswipe with an odd expression while his creator handed off his three elder siblings before stepping onto the waiting hand. The lion didn’t know why he did so, but he could not help but be puzzled. Something felt… off, but his creator trusted the mech and they had always been fine together. He shook his head as they left, reassured he was just being paranoid and too protective. She was his creator after all, so it was only natural to feel as such when a being of no relation took her off somewhere without them.

Catherine, on the other hand, had no qualms of sitting on the silver mech’s hand as he rolled through the halls, less occupied now that it was nearly eating time and shift change wasn’t due for many more hours. She was, in fact, overjoyed with the thought of being able to finally talk with her silver friend. She had nearly given in to the realization that Sideswipe no longer wanted to be her friend for reasons she could only guess, but never be sure about. Surely this talk was to clear the misunderstandings! And even if he didn’t, she was still determined to make sure they did talk about it.

“So the usual spot?” she inquired, but he surprisingly shook his head.

“No, I have to go to training soon,” he replied, more distantly that she would have liked. It stung and worried her, and the fear he was attempting to completely break their friendship ran rampant through her. She couldn’t let it happen, though—she didn’t want to lose any more friends. She _wouldn’t_ lose any more friends. Sure, she got Sam back, but that didn’t mean she could get them all back, and she didn’t want to have to take that chance. Not with Sideswipe.

She looked over at him, and found his optics unusually focused and not as bright as she remembered them to be. She decided courtesy could be damned, and used her powers to reach out to his spark and emotions, but found they were hidden behind a stalwart wall, completely unreadable. There would be no telling if he was happy or mad or wanting to end things. Again, fear gripped at her, but she bit it back with courage. She had to keep hope. It couldn’t be over. That was just silly! This was all just some silly misunderstanding. Yes, she had her best friend back, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care for Sideswipe or want to be friends with him, too. She needed him just as much as Sam!

“This should do,” she heard him mumble, but said nothing as he lowered her to the ground and knelt down on one knee to bring himself lower to her.

“Okay. So, um, what… What is it you wanted to, ah, talk about?” she asked carefully, and she watched his optics dim as they looked away and his mouth was set in a frown as if he were struggling. She braced herself when he looked back, a sense of determination in his gaze.

“You can make sparks, right?”

 _Oookay. Not what I was expecting. At all._ “Um… Kind of.”

“But you made Steeljaw, so you can do it, right?”

“Well, yes, but… There are some issues…”

“You can still make one, though?”

“Yeah…”

He shifted, his optics brightening and darkening, “Then… Then you know the request for that car? The Lamborghini.”

“That was you?”

“I…Will you bring it to life? Give it a spark, I mean.”

“Wait— _what_? Sideswipe, what are you talking about? I can’t just bring a car to life!”

“ _Please_ , Catherine. I just need you to give it a body and spark—that’s all! Nothing more than that, and I can make sure that no one finds out but me and you. Ratchet will blow a gasket I know, but it will be fine after you bring him back.”

“Sideswipe, I—I can’t. I just—I can’t do that.”

His optics flared and she didn’t need her powers to know he’d suddenly become angered.

“You have to!” he shouted, but then calmed. “We’re… we’re friends, right?”

“Y-yeah…”

“And friends help each other, right?” he continued and she nodded. “Well, I need your help. I need you to bring that car to life.”

“I told you—I _can’t_.”

“Don’t tell me that!” he roared, and she began to worry. “Don’t tell me you can’t bring him back! Don’t tell me that! I have to have him back! I have to!”

“Who—who are you talking about?” she asked tentatively, and the rage continued to build, though now it was accompanied by sorrow.

“Sunstreaker. My brother. My Twin. My other half! You have to bring him back!”

“But he’s still alive—“

“You don’t know that! _I_ don’t know that! I- I can’t… I can’t _feel_ him!” he howled, fingers clawing at his chest where his spark was. “I’ve tried so hard, but—but I can’t find him! He’s not answering. He’s not there. But you can bring him back. You have to bring him back—you have to give him back to me! I—I don’t know what to do without him! He can’t be gone! He just can’t! I _need_ him!”

“Oh God, Sideswipe… I… It… I,” she tried to reply, stumbling on the words, but he cut her off with his strange, primal gaze.

“I have everything you need. We saved our core personality files in each other’s processors. It was a safety function just in case. I have everything about him up here,” he went on, tapping at his skull, his voice become wilder along with his movements. “I just need you to give him a spark and then he’ll be back and everything will be fine. _Please_.”

“I… I…” she began, unable to meet his pleading optics. “I-I can’t!”

He reared back, as if struck, and then slammed his palms into the ground. She took a step back instinctively.

“Why not?!” he roared, and it was difficult to meet his optics.

She needed to get out of here. She couldn’t believe the thought had crossed her mind, but this—this _thing_ in front of her wasn’t Sideswipe. It couldn’t be. Her friend wasn’t like this. Her friend was kind and funny and caring in his own, mean kind of way. But the mech before her wasn’t that. This wasn’t Sideswipe.

“I—it's the problem. I can’t make a spark—not without taking another. If I made your brother, I’d have to kill someone else!”

He lurched forward, “Then take Barricade’s! He doesn’t deserve to live after what he’s done! He’s a slagging ‘Con—no one would care if you did it! I’ll even restrain him for you!”

“What? No! Sideswipe, you’re—you’re acting crazy! You can’t do that, even if he was a ‘Con. He’s a neutral now and asked for amnesty!”

“Then take mine!” he screeched, his chest parting to reveal the glow hidden within. He leaned closer and she pressed up against the wall, hoping, praying for an escape. Something was wrong with Sideswipe—something dark and terribly wrong.

“Sideswipe,” she breathed, hoping desperately to reach him, but it was to no avail.

“Take my spark! Take as much as you need! Just bring him back! Bring Sunstreaker back!”

“And then what? What would that do?” she shouted back, the thought coming by instinct, and, by some miracle, it breached through his insanity and he paused. She gathered her courage then and, clenching her fists tight, she took a step forward. “Sunstreaker would be back, but what about you? You’d be gone! So what then!”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Of course it fucking matters! I don’t want to lose you, Sideswipe, and if _I_ don’t want to—just think of your brother! Wouldn’t he do anything to bring you back, too? Wouldn’t he give up his spark?” she spoke firmly, each and every word a blow that sent him backwards and stinging with pain. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off as she went on. “And what if I took all of his spark to make you again, too? Then you’d just start this all over again. It would be an endless cycle of death and rebirth, filled with pain—you would never see each other! Do you want that? Would your brother want that?”

A cold, eerie silence consumed the silver mech, his optics darkening as his chest closed and his frame shook. She dare not reach out to see if it was with rage or fear or sadness; his poise was still wild and unsafe. Though he had finally been beaten back, he was still a wounded, rapid animal. There was no pulling him out—he would have to do so himself if that was possible. She could only stand still, watching him carefully, and hoping he could. The Sideswipe she knew had to be in there. He had to be. Yet, she could not help but wonder if this—this _thing_ before her was the real Sideswipe and the other was but a mask. Did she even know him? She had not expected this.

“No, no, no, no,” he began to utter softly, his fingers coming up to grasp his head as if he were in pain. His optics flickered, brightened, and darkened, all in a rapid, repeating process that frightened Catherine and kept her close to the wall. Her instincts told her to flee, but logic told her there would be no point and it would only worsen things, but by God was the feeling strong. It only grew worse when his hands dropped and his optics locked onto her, a rage she had once thought only meant for Decepticons aimed at her. She could scarcely raise a hand to shield herself as his arm reared back and swung towards her. There wasn’t even time to blink as the wall behind her shook and the sound of cracking metal exploded through her ears like a gunshot.

Heart beat racing, she stood still as she stared at Sideswipe, his frame shaking even worse than before as he glared down at her. His gaze broke though as he suddenly looked to his right and went stiff. She dared turn her head, and at once relief flowed through her.

_Jazz._

If she had not been so happy to see him and had he not been there for her, she would have been terrified by his stance. He was on his toes, ready to lunge, and his fingers were curled tight into fists, ready to strike. If the silver mech so much as twitched towards her, the white knight would have Sideswipe slammed into the ground and shut down in mere seconds. His gaze alone said that—his visor dark and unmoving, while his face was set like unfeeling stone. There was no knowing his train of thought as he stood there; no telling what he would do; only that the recipient of his anger would suffer dearly.

Though he was in a frenzied rage, Sideswipe had enough sense to pull his arm away slowly and then stand up even more so. His optics never left Jazz’s, though his demeanor was that of a hopeless animal, caught by a soon to be victorious hunter. However, the white mech did not move to make his kill, and the silver mech quickly turned and ran, zipping around the corner as fast as he could. Catherine did not move, though; her legs did not want to listen as the cold sweat dribbled down her brow and her heart continued to hammer in her chest. She forced her fingers, clammy and wet, to unfurl and to finally let herself breathe in deeply.

Jazz moved then, doing so with long, purposeful and dangerous strides. She knew what he was after, and though the silver mech possibly deserved it, she couldn’t let him. Sideswipe was hurt. That hadn’t been him. It couldn’t have been. She refused to believe it. He was just upset. He missed his brother. That was all. They couldn’t punish him for that.

“Jazz,” she rasped, and the white mech came to a halt just a few steps past her. “D-don’t. Don’t. Just… Stay. He… Let him be. Just… take me… Take me back to Ratchet.”

Her guardian stayed silent for such a long while she feared he would go against her request and she would have to chase after, but then he was by her side, kneeling down to cup her gently into his hands.

“Okay.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** So, _for those you were wondering, the new bots are: Brawn, Bluestreak, Springer, and Smokescreen. Kind of random pickings that actually work out really freaking well. I'm actually surprised how well. Although, Springer's actually more genuine since he actually does appear in the comics. But the rest are random picks. They'll hold true more-or-less to their G1 namesakes, by the way :)_

_And so now Cat is fully integrated in her role... and she is one busy chick! She had to deal with the Twins and government at the same time! Woe is her... Kinda. Thankfully Ironhide is there to help out, hee hee~ Oh, and Ratchet and Jolt are good help, too. Ratchet is becoming probably one of my favorite characters at the moment. He's so snarky right now that I love it! :D_

_And now in regards to Sideswipe. FIRST OFF- This story is THIRD PERSON LIMITED, so while it is not First Person, it is namely taken from Catherine's point of view, so no one else's thoughts are generally heard. So, for anyone confused by Sideswipe's sudden change- I had signs. Remember his odd looks or shimmers or the text about the "idea" forming in his head? All had to do with this- bringing his brother back. There's special stuff with their Twin bond, so you'll see in time why he went this far because we don't know how Sideswipe truly feels or what he's thinking ;)_

_Oh, also- huge major cluster-f**k next chapter. I'm not even kidding. It gets mind crazy, and we start to shed some light on Catherine's thoughts normally locked far away in her mind. So yeah. Expect craziness._


	28. Use Somebody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King's of Leon - Use Somebody for the song

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Jazz didn’t take Catherine back to Ratchet. Instead, he silently brought her to her room, all the while holding her close to his chest, right over his spark so she could feel the warmth. It was comforting as her mind succumbed to the dark, tumultuous mess her thoughts were quickly becoming. Fear and cynicism filled her like black smog, turning the world around her empty and dark. The only thing keeping her tied down was the humming and warmth of his spark; a small, but powerful voice calling out.

When they reached their destination, she found Steeljaw waiting there with his brothers, greatly worried. No words passed as Jazz set her down, and she allowed the metal lion to guide her in and onto her bed. What became of her white knight was lost as the door was closed behind her and she lay upon the sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling. She knew not what to call the thing that rampaged through her, tearing apart everything in sight. She only knew she felt pain and emptiness and guilt. She only wished she could know for what reason she did.

Her face remained unmoving, regardless of what she felt. No tears formed; no streams ran down her cheek. She did not even frown and scrunch her brows in confusion. She only stared, trying desperately to form a path through the torrent, but she was at a loss. Even the worried callings of her creations’ sparks could not stir her, though she knew they were there. No, her attention was meant for one thing, and one thing only.

Sideswipe.

What had happened? What had possessed him to act as he did? He had been no better than a rabid animal, and she could not deny she’d felt fear running through her before his gaze. His desperation was terrifying. The desire to have his brother—it was like he was a starving beast. But he had not been that way days before. He had been perfectly fine. He had been cheerful and grumpy and distant. Hadn’t he? Had she even really looked? Had she bothered to notice? Had she not seen the growing insanity causing his mind to crumble and turn him into that—that _thing_?

How could she not have seen it? Was everything a lie? Had her time with him been but a beautiful illusion? She could not help but wonder if they were friends after all. Yes, they had spent precious moments together and spoken deeply in such a way only friends would, but still—the scene from but moments before burrowed deep, cracking the memories. She searched through those cracks, looking for what might lie beneath though it frightened her. She did not want to have to peel away the welcoming, bright exterior to find a monster beneath. She did not want to find what she always did beneath people. She did not want him to be like everyone else, yet, how could she deny it?

Surely it was just her fear’s doing, and she shook her to head to dislodge its hold. It was a weak attempt, however, and she could not be free of its cruel whispers. She could not help calling herself a fool. She should not have allowed herself to get so close so easily. She knew the consequences. She knew what could happen. Sam had done it—he still could, her fear told her with a horrid laugh—and Sideswipe she had scarcely known for a few months. Yet she had done so, and now she was to suffer. It had been inevitable, though. How could she have thought any different? It always ended this way, didn’t it?

Denial did its best to press through her morbid thoughts, but the smog was thick, and she was forced to retire into a heavy sleep muddled with strange memories that were not her own. She only wished she could have stayed there, drinking Energon blissfully with some unknown comrade while other mechs roamed about, peacefully and without care, but morning came. However, she would find she would not need to leave the safety and comfort of her metallic lion’s frame, who had not left her side for a moment and informed her she had been given the day off to recover from sickness.

She silently thanked Jazz—there was no other way she would have time off—and let herself stay there, curled against Steeljaw’s side while he placed his head close, watching her carefully. Her thoughts were mostly empty as she stared off, but slowly a vague desire came to her mind and she had Teletraan transform. She scrolled through the names in her contact list and stopped on the name she knew best of all. However, she paused just before pressing to call. There was no naming why, but she suddenly felt a new great fear and worry. Her vision shook as she stared at the name, fear taking hold again.

_He’ll leave you too_ , it whispered just as it had the evening before. _You know he will. He already did so. He abandoned you. They’ll all leave you. You know that’s how it works._

She wanted to deny it, but the words were stuck in her throat. She felt her eyes water then, and she set the phone drone aside to keep it from growing worse. She cursed and cursed, damning her cowardice and her cynicism and her thoughts. She damned herself for being so foolish and naïve. Nothing lasted. It never did. She knew that. Sam had not lasted—why would he last again? They were living such different lives now. He would be different when or if they met again. How could she know he wouldn’t leave? How could she know he wouldn’t be like Sideswipe? How could she know she wouldn’t be forgotten again?

Tears rolled and sobs escaped her despite every effort to prevent them. Her children tried to comfort her, their sparks calling out to soothe her, but it did little to ease the hurt.

If only she could know—if only she could understand why! Why had the silver mech betrayed her? Why had he suddenly meant to harm her? Why would he wish for her to defile herself and his own honor? Had he even been her friend? Had it all been a ruse? Had he just meant to _use_ her? The pain only grew as she began to believe that was true. It worsened when she looked back at their time together.

He had asked many times about her powers, she realized, especially about creating sparks. He had always been so interested in it, though he had hidden his curiosity well beneath other questions or actions. He had not wanted to be her friend. He had wanted to use her to bring what he really cared about back. He had only wanted a means to return his brother. She was nothing to him but a tool. He didn’t care. His words had all been lies. He did not care.

And yet—and yet… why had he gone to such lengths? He had opened himself up so much; shown her things he dared not show the others. Was that just all part of the act? Had he only pulled her closer to ensure she would help him? It all made sense. It was no wonder he had begun to grow distant over the past few months—he had been preparing to ask for her help. That was it. He had reeled her in so perfectly. She had been such a fool. She… She…

How could she have fallen so easily?

She knew the answer.

She had needed him. She had needed someone to fill the void. He had come to her in a time of hurt and weakness during that dark night. He had come when she needed someone most and she had clung without thinking. She was no better than he was. She had needed to fill the empty space that had belonged to Sam, and he had been there. God, how could she have been so stupid? How could she have let herself act so impulsively? How could she be so—so _terrible_?

The irony was too cruel.

She had been using him this whole time, too. He had just been a replacement for Sam for her. He needed a way to return his brother, and she needed someone to befriend. But then she’d gotten Sam back and he had yet to get what he wanted. Now he never would, and she wondered if she would lose as well. Surely she deserved it. She was but a beast as well, though hidden by flesh rather than metal.

She wished in that moment, curled up tight against the golden frame of her lion, that she could run. She wished she could have run far away and never returned. She wished to get away from everything—all the hurt and pain and fear. It was almost too heavy to bear, the weight. She had been able to withstand its power before, but now the truth was before her and she could no longer take it. All that was left was to close her eyes and hope it would be gone the next day. She knew it was a fruitless and childish thing, but it was all she could think to do as she forced herself to sleep.

Catherine did not dream of memories, and she could not simply stay in her room once she woke. Though she was no better, she forced herself to move. Steeljaw remained close all the way to her office. She passed up any training—she did not think she could manage—and began to work despite her weakened state. It was difficult, and she often didn’t notice anyone who entered until the door closed. She vaguely recalled Lennox entering to inquire about her health, and at once he could see something was wrong. She made a weak promise to maybe explain later, though he had nearly ordered she speak there and now. She made a similar response to Marissa later on, but knew she would probably never do so.

By the end of it, she was happy to leave, though was fairly sure she would have to look through everything again. She had no desire to return to her room, however, and so made her way to the medical bay in hopes of doing something to keep busy. Unfortunately, there was to be none of that as medic realized the degraded state of her well-being at once and quickly went about giving her nourishment along with a stern talking about keeping her health up. When he noticed something deeper was occurring, he demanded to know what, but when he got a shake of the head, he probed further and found her body was more than just malnourished. He couldn’t believe her state was so unbalanced with her powers, but nonetheless he deemed it an order that she would remain off duty until she was better. She meant to refuse, but his word was law when it came to health and she could only numbly agree.

She soon came to hate the medic for imprisoning her. For keeping her in that room at the mercy of her dark thoughts, and nothing was spared from them—not even her teammates or Lennox who came to check up on her. She could not help but wonder if they really cared or if they’d abandon her, too. Surely all but Lennox would if they knew her secret. She wasn’t truly human, after all. She was different. And though Lennox had been fine with it, he would surely leave her one day, too. He had a family, and though she reminded herself they had taken her in, she wasn’t their family. She was … She was… Well, she didn’t know what she was, but certainly they would leave her.

Worst of all was the thought of the other Autobots leaving her. The newer ones she could understand—they weren’t all that close to her yet. But Ratchet and Optimus and Ironhide? What was she to them? The Allspark? A human? Was she anything that would keep them to her? And what of Jazz? Oh God— what of Jazz? He wouldn’t leave her… would he? No, he wouldn’t. That was impossible, but he had left her once, too. He had died, but she had brought him back, and—and… And why was he so close to her? Wasn’t he her guardian? Wasn’t it just his duty? What would happen if she suddenly lost her powers? Would he have been so kind had she never had them? Did he really care or was she nothing more than a job?

The silent screams could not be any louder in her wallowing, and it was only the calling of the white-armored mech that managed to pull her head above the water. Fear kept her from him at first, but he pulled her close when she at last appeared before him, and then she knew her worries of him were unbiased. He did not even need to say it for her to know he would not abandon her, and in that she found some freedom from the manacles of despair. There was at least one light in the dark.

He kept her near him for what felt hours, far from the unknowing, accusing eyes around her, and from him she found the comfort she needed to regain some of her sanity. It was also from him she learned of Sideswipe; how his spark had become unstable without his Twin and it had affected his processor; how he had been sent into holding and wouldn’t be released for some time; of how he was getting better now. She would have been lying if she said it helped to hear the thing that attacked her hadn’t been Sideswipe, but she still could not be truly happy knowing they had used each other—that they were both terrible beings.

She did not recalling falling asleep, but the next day she awoke in a makeshift bed in the medical bay with her creations close beside her, still as worried as before. Ratchet was quick to check on her—a mother hen at its best—and only let her leave after feeding her and telling her to eat again at specific times and to rest in her room. Steeljaw was sent to watch her, and this time she was not as reluctant. Despite having slept most of the week, she still felt tired. However, sleep would come later, as Teletraan began to buzz.

It was Sam, but she let it go until it ended. He called again. This time, she picked it up.

“Hey,” she spoke weakly, and she could tell by his pause he already knew something was wrong.

“What happened?” he demanded, though with concern.

“…Something bad. I… I don’t…”

“You don’t have to. Talk when you want. I’m here.”

“Sam… don’t… Don’t leave. Please.”

He replied at once, “I won’t.”

She let out a shaky breathe, bordering on a sob. Another light. Another hope. This one was weak, though, but as the hours passed and he stayed on the phone with her, it grew stronger.

When she at last grew too tired to stay awake she asked him to stay, and he said he would. And when she woke the next morning, she felt fear for only a fraction of a second before realizing the call was still going. It spiked again when she didn’t answer his name, but then she found a message about how if he didn’t do so, he might be asleep. She smiled at that, the light now stalwart and unbreakable, and she whispered a thank-you into the phone before ending the call.

She felt much better that day, but Ratchet kept her off duty. Lennox and her team visited again, and she was able to send them off with more hopeful looks. Her worries for them weakened, and she pulled further from the smog. She allowed herself to believe things would always be fine. Even if her fears could be right, she let herself think they wouldn’t leave; wouldn’t abandon her. It was a wondrous feeling.

Jazz was with her more then, keeping a close optic on her, talking with her, and keeping her distracted. The others occasionally helped as well, asking her opinion or about what they should do. Little by little, each moment worked its way through the blackness and pulled her further and further from it. Of course, she could not pull away clean, though—no, the scars remained there and in the distinct shape and color of the silver mech.

She did not see him at all that day or the next, and much of her was glad for it. However, she did feel the need to see him—to see for herself if her assumption were true. Yet, at the same time she didn’t. She wasn’t even sure she could face him. She found out the following day he felt much the same. Their eyes had met for just a moment and then he looked away as he turned the other direction. It hurt, the scars agitated, and she began to realize it really was the truth. There was no other explanation for it, and maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was best they just continued on without speaking about things.

So why didn’t it feel like it should?

Why did it hurt every time they met, only to avert each other gaze and part ways? Why did she have to feel such guilt and anger and bitterness towards herself? It was maddening, and she only wanted it to stop.

Three days later, it did.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, sooo you’re Bluestreak,” Catherine spoke, pointing at the silver, black, and red-armored mech with the brightest smile and most enthusiastic nod she’d ever seen.

“Yep! That’s me! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve already been told you’re the liaison and that I’m supposed to listen to what you say, so don’t worry about that because I will! Prowl—my mentor—always said I should, and that rules create order and that chaos was bad—which it is—so no worries. Oh, and I guess I’m supposed to tell you about my specialties so you can assign me to duty with the humans, which I’m really looking forward to by the way!”

Ratchet had not been over-exaggerating when he described the mech before her. Yes, he was adorable and sweet, but good lord he could talk! She’d thought for a split second that he wasn’t going to shut up in that reply!

“Well, actually, Ratchet’s going to tell me that with his report. I’m just supposed to learn a bit about your personality to see who you’ll get along best with. These are people you’re going to be working with for a long time, so you'll need to get along with them,” she replied, and the young mech nodded. “But before we get too deep into that, I need to show you around. I already took the others before you were released from the Med Bay, so we don’t need to wait.”

“Oh, that’s great! I can’t wait! I’ve never been to this planet before, and from what I saw in that place we were picked up—sorry, I don’t know the name yet—it looks beautiful! Hound would have loved all the organic creatures here and the landscapes, too! Granted, there’s not much here but sand and you humans, but he probably still would have liked it. I find it all rather nice, actually.”

Catherine nearly face palmed, but kept herself in check as she led the mech along, taking him down the corridor to the main entrance. She pulled around to the back side, making sure to steer clear of larger crowds and reminding Bluestreak to watch his step, which the mech assured her he would in a long winded sentence that quickly jumped into different subjects about whatever crossed his mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had the Cybertronian equivalent of ADD or something with how “everywhere” he was.

It was good for her, she suddenly realized. It kept her mind from going to places it shouldn’t, and she quickly shook her head to keep from going to said places. Indeed, the past few days had become incredibly busy with the new arrivals landing in Africa and NEST being sent to get them before anyone came loping around to find out where the meteors had landed. Two days were spent at the South African NEST base to rest, the four of them having been in their meteor forms too long without replenishing their Energon stores. Then they’d finally made it to Diego Garcia and had to get checked by Ratchet for damages, an “abilities report”, and their alternate forms. Lastly, they were sent off to her.

Smokescreen had been the first, and she’d found him to be just as Ratchet described and more. He was very conversational and engaging as he did so. He worked his words well to make sure things went smoothly and that no confrontations could be made. She had a feeling he would be able to work with any group, so the final decision would definitely lie with his abilities. She did plan to have him help her out with the liaison work, too, and he happily agreed if it meant keeping things alright around the base. Quite the psychiatrist and peace-keeper indeed.

Springer was second, and, well, he certainly wasn’t as civil as Smokescreen, but he wasn’t rude either. It was like seeing Ironhide when he was younger, and not a vehicle. In fact, the green-armored mech was a helicopter, which was a nice addition to the Autobot’s forces. They could do with more aerial units, considering Evac and Blazemaster were only short-range helicopters, whereas the Decepticons tended to have war aerial craft. Springer, however, was more suited for battle, being that he was an army-type helicopter. He knew that, too, which made him cocky enough to make sure it was known to everyone else. Thankfully, he was taken away by the Femme Unit team, whom apparently knew him from quite a long time ago. Arcee seemed especially close, which Catherine had stored for fodder.

Third has been Brawn, and she was pretty sure their Chief Medical Officer had been understating his grumpiness. He barely said anything besides one-worded replies or grunts or nods. He wasn’t rude or even mean or anything, just… not talkative. He was also short. Not as short as the Twins, but Jazz almost towered over him, and apparently, as she so learned, he was a sub-type of Mech, known as a Minibot, which made both of the Twins one, too. Unlike the two miscreants, Brawn made up for his lack of height with bulk and the fact he was absurdly strong. She found that out easily enough when Ironhide appeared in the training room and the smaller, brown-and-yellow mech tore after the black one to start a match of what looked like “mercy”. Ironhide should have easily tossed Brawn, but the black mech had actually been pushed _back_! With a laugh, the two suddenly released their grips, shook hands, and gave her the O.K. to go.

Now she was here with Bluestreak, who was undoubtedly as adorable as Bumblebee, but the speaking thing needed some work. Granted, when he wasn’t talking he was _very_ attentive and incredibly eager to learn. Everything seemed to excite him—it was like having a small, hyper-active puppy around. Luckily, there were a group of soldiers that she was pretty sure would work just fine with him based on that alone. Once she got his abilities she’d have to edit it a bit, of course, but hopefully she could get at least one of the groups under him.

“…And the training room is just ahead,” she told him as they rounded the corner, coming upon the open hangar doors. Inside, a group of soldiers had rounded up to watch Ironhide and Brawn, still brawling it at even after about an hour. The two looked like they were having fun, though, and as they got closer Springer appeared around the edge of the doorway with a happy smile on his face. Beside him were the Triplets, though only Chromia seemed intently interested in the match—particularly with the black mech who was winning at the moment. The fodder was piling up.

“Oh dear! They’re going at it, aren’t they? That’s okay, right? Well, I mean, I guess it is since they’re going at it and no one’s stopping them, but shouldn’t the humans be worried? Or, well, Springer and Arcee, Chromia, and Elita-1 are here, and Ironhide and Brawn are responsible mechs and all, so they should be okay,” Bluestreak mused, his door wings flapping up and down in synch with his emotions. She’d noticed it on the way here, and it was one of the cutest things she’d ever seen a Cybertronian do. He suddenly perked up as another figure strolled in front another side door. “Oh! It’s Knockout! Oh! I haven’t seen him in so long! The last time was before the battle of Tyger Pax and we got separated, and then I was sent off planet, and just—can I go see him? Please? There’s so much I want to talk about! All the planets we’ve been to and—and so much more!”

Catherine smiled with a soft chuckle, “Sure, go ahead, Bluestreak. This was kind of the last place we were going to visit, anyway. Go have fun and report back to the Autobot side at the time Ratchet told you.”

His blue optics glowed even brighter and he quickly, but carefully, maneuvered his way around the humans, nearly sprinted over to the young, motorcycle mech, who brightened at the sight of Bluestreak. The redhead smiled as they started talking, and glanced around at the room. Everyone looked so happy. Ironhide and Brawn were like brothers having a good old wrestling match; Springer looked like a mock-pimp with the Triplets around him, though only he and Arcee were undoubtedly friends in the way they exchanged smile-worthy comments; Chromia and Elita-1 reminded her of young gossiping women as they pointed at the two fighting mechs and exchanged laughs; Bluestreak and Knockout were like young friends, happy to be reunited. It made her… It made her a little jealous, to be honest. It made her think of how, hardly a blink-of-the-eye ago, she had been able to do the same with a certain silver mech.

With a sigh, she turned and headed back the way she came. She saluted or waved to any of the soldiers she passed, and even exchanged words with a few. She saw Michael and stopped to talk a little, but she wasn’t really in the mood to go hang out or anything. He understood, or she hoped he did, and she continued on, reaching the Autobot side in a few minutes. She felt tired now, and wouldn’t mind taking a quick nap. Her work was technically done for the day anyways, so it would work out.

…Or she thought it would.

She nearly tripped and fell on her face, but managed to keep her feet, although the clipboard she’d had in her hands fell. The sound caught the attention of a mech she hadn’t expected to see at all, and she suddenly felt incredibly flustered as she picked it up and looked everywhere but his face. He didn’t say anything as she came closer. Things only got more awkward as she realized he was standing right in front of her room—in fact, his wheel was in the way of the door.

“…Um…” he began, his voice soft and—and weak. That caught her off guard and she finally looked up and found his optics dim and somber. It was almost depressing how he looked and how he couldn’t seem to meet her eyes.

“…Yeah…?” she replied uncertainly. Her tone must have struck a sore nerve, because he looked up, hurt. He quickly looked back down and shifted out of the way of her door.

“… Can… Will you… come to the spot? Later, I mean. You don’t have to now. Or, um, at all… I guess.”

“Oh… um…” she started, her mind reeling faster than her mouth could keep up with.

“I’ll… I’ll be waiting,” he spoke even more softly and rolled off, leaving her there in the hall.

Catherine watched him go and felt something grow in her chest—a heavy notion that flashed between hot and cold. It would not become stable, and it didn’t stop even when he was out of sight. She turned to her door and entered, only to stop again and stare at the box on the floor. It was just a plain cardboard box—no wrapping or bow or anything. Just a box waiting to be opened. She wasn’t one to leave something like that waiting, so, setting her clipboard down, she pulled off the lid and stared with awe at what lay inside.

She honestly wasn’t sure what it was at first. It looked like maybe it was supposed to be a knuckle weapon, like some mafia boss would use, but the grip was made from what felt like leather and the metal was too smooth and thin for that. She slipped it over her hand and found it didn’t fit her knuckles at all, but rather around her palm. She clenched her fists, testing the feel, and the metal suddenly shot out—forming a sharp end that extended a few inches out. It was a short blade. She gasped in both awe and surprise, the weapon beautiful and fascinating. But who..?

“Sideswipe,” she breathed and remembered his request. She glanced down at the box where another hand blade awaited her, still sheathed. She looked between the two and then her door, her mind and heart competing; logic against emotion and… something else.

The smog from before began to build again, whispering dangerous words. She thought of the thing he had been, but this time she kept fear at bay. She instead thought of her own faults; of how she had been no better. She swam through the stormy waters, watching the memories flow by as she tried to choose what to do.

It took her a long time, but, in the end, she decided to go.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _I contemplated taking out the weapon, but then I decided against it~ :3 Too bad she can't use it around base, and she's a liaison so she won't be doing much fighting, so yeah, ha ha. ANYWAYS, that's chapter 27, and the cluster f*** of Catherine's mind is over~ If she seemed a little crazy then good- she was supposed to be :D She was rather traumatized by the experience, and then her own demons came to light, so I mean, bad things were bound to happen. Also, did anyone suspect her own faults in regards to Sideswipe? That's in part why it hurts her so much. That, and this happens to be her one, major weak spot. There are a few others, but this chapter basically hits the biggest one. Thankfully, she has "light" to get her through- particularly Sam. Sam is going to be a major person for her, so keep watching out for that kid. This is story is majorly about them in a way, after all._

_Also- introduction of the new Autobots, starting with Bluestreak! :D I've always found him incredibly adorable, although he's a hardcore sniper and not as adorable in the comics xD Anyways, Brawn is basically Ironhide, but small, ha ha. He's kind of a grump, but he's a good guy :) Springer is Springerish, or I plan to keep him that way. He's like an Ironhide-in-training, I guess, ha ha, but not as serious. He's also best buddies with Arcee, so that's a homage for you G1 fans :D And Smokescreen is just the cool cat of the bunch whose going to be helping out 'Cat soon enough~ I've always liked him. He's a gambler, too, ha ha!_

_And so I leave you with a cliffhanger. Kind of! I mean, you obviously know something is going to happen, what what will go down? Oh the suspense! You'll just have to wait, 'cause there's a lot that will be said! Many things about our heroine will be revealed and more! :D_


	29. Roll Away Your Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mumford & Sons - Roll Away Your Stone
> 
> **some language use

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He was there waiting for her when she arrived, his back to her with optics gazing at the ocean. The sun painted him with a golden light, though from the back it appeared as a shadow. She watched him silently, her resolve quivering, but still standing. She clenched her fists as she contemplated going back, the thought of the incident still fresh in her mind, but then she remembered her reasons—her own monstrous features. She lifted her head and saw through the shadow to the silver, and bravely moved forward.

He briefly glanced back as she approached, then carefully eased himself down with the same grace as he usually did. She was soon beside him and sat, though did not look at him. He did not look at either, and the silence was a heavy wall between them. It was not unbreakable, however, and she knew it deep down underneath all the pain and fear and worry. They only needed the right tools, but where to start? How did one apologize for being so selfish? Surely a simple “sorry” would not suffice, but then what would?

She found there was so much to say—so much she wanted to let him know. Yet, the words would not come, latching onto her throat, and refusing to obey her. She frowned, pulling her legs closer and wrapping her arms tighter. Beside her the silver wheeled-feet shifted, though she dared not use her powers to reach out and discern why. She didn’t want to discover something she didn’t want.

“Um…” he began, or tried to, apparently at as much of a loss as her.

“I…” was all she managed to force out, too, and they lapsed back into silence. Another layer of the wall was put down, and they suffered for it. Both moved uncomfortable, neither the sea breeze nor warmth of the sun serving as comfort to their dilemma.

Catherine glanced up at him a few times, and noticed his face appeared to be wrought with confusion and difficulty. She could not help feeling the spark of hope in her chest—the thought he might be trying to fix things. She quickly smothered it with pessimism, reminding herself that hope only made things worse, and things were bad enough already. And yet, each time she looked up she felt the hope spark anew, burning through the smog that brewed within her.

“I… I’m… sorry,” he said at last, and it was so weak and pained that she was forced to look up at him. His optics were dimmed and full of shame, and she soon felt it, too.

“It’s… it’s okay…”

He shook his head, “No, it’s not.”

“Sideswipe—” she began, but he looked at her directly, and she became silent.

“It’s not okay. That—what you saw… I… I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just… I… We’ve… My brother… He and I—we’ve been separated. I… I need him, and I haven’t been able to feel him for so long now,” he spoke, touching his chest; right where his spark was. “I feel empty without him—incomplete. I know… I know it might be hard to understand. Even the others have trouble, but… It’s… painful being without him for so long and… and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have him back, and so I went after you because I knew you could, but then you, well, rejected me, and… and that was worse than anything a ‘Con could do or had done. To be refused my brother—to be refused my other half… It was unthinkable. But… But I wasn’t thinking. I was wrong. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did.”

He kept her gaze for a few more moments before he finally looked away, his optics dimming more as he pulled himself tighter together. She could feel her heartbeat racing; elated by the fact her hope had not been unfounded. Sideswipe was back, she knew, and whatever he had been before was gone. For how long, she didn’t know, but, at the very least, right now, Sideswipe was back.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know, but I am sorry… You were right, too, about what would happen. He would have tried to bring me back… That’s to say, if it even worked out. I wasn’t thinking clearly those past cycles—I thought the memory chip would be enough, but it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be the same. I was a fool, and I hurt you because I couldn’t see it.”

He didn’t turn to look back at her this time, and she did not answer for a long while. She supposed he meant for her to say something, but when she did not, she saw him shrink way more, as if he had been struck. In truth, she did not know what to say. There were the things she wished to tell him—to confess she too was undeserving—but her own selfishness would not let her. The guilt plagued her as the words were overruled by something else, and she regretted it a little as she spoke.

“Did… Did you only become my friend to use me?” she asked, almost at a whisper, and he flinched as if she’d struck him again. The sight was disheartening as his frown deepened.

He looked to be about to deny it, but then he sighed, “Yes. When I saw you create Teletraan, I saw a way to bring Sunstreaker back, and planned to gain your trust so you would do it.”

Pain seared through Catherine’s chest and she looked down, her fears cemented. He had never wanted to be her friend after all. She had just been a tool—always a tool. At least she had wanted friendship from him even if was only to use him in the place of Sam. At least—she stopped the thoughts with a shake of her head, the guilt rising. She could barely believe herself, thinking such awful things.

“But then,” he spoke up again, and she looked up with wide eyes. “I… It became more than that. I tried these past few quartex to deny it. I distanced myself; kept telling myself what my goal was. I almost did it, too. I almost lost it, but when I was in the holding cells I had time to think, and… and I realized that it had become more. I don’t know when or how, but… but I realized I _missed_ talking. I haven’t been able to with anyone really besides my brother. Not even the others, but with you I just… I couldn’t help it, and I wanted that.”

He paused for a while, his optics dimming and brightening with his emotions, and he looked at her directly, “And… If it’s possible… I want to start over. I want to try again, this time without any hidden agendas or anything.”

The two stared in silence again, both with thoughts swirling in an unmanageable torrent of hope teetering on the edge of despair. But then, at the last moment, she nodded. It was not as strong or as good as words, but it was enough, and Sideswipe let the faintest of smiles appear. Then the silence turned them back to the scenery, or at least it turned the mech. The redheaded young woman continued to look up at him, her guilt swelling and pressing against her conscious, moving her to say the withheld words. It was only right she did—she was not the only victim in this. The guilt only grew worse as the silence ticked on. She attempted to pull herself closer to hold it in, but there was no stopping it as it consumed her conscious and pushed the words out.

“T-to tell the truth,” she began uneasily, the words strange and uncomfortable on her lips. Sideswipe looked down, though with what she dared not look to see. “I… I… u-used you, too.”

She looked up for a brief moment and saw there was confusion. She felt a wave of scorching shame go through her, but her guilt was strong and her conscious knew it was right. She had to continue.

“I… I needed someone to fill in the gap Sam had left. I needed a friend I could talk to like I did with him and…and you were there, so I used you. I didn’t even notice it because I was so desperate, but I did it. And then when Sam came back I threw you aside. I know it might not seem like it, but even if you hadn’t distanced on your own… I would have.”

He waited a few seconds before replying, “I deserve that, though…”

“No. You don’t,” she replied at once, shaking her head. “You did it because you missed your brother. He’s your other half. It’s understandable. I did it because… because I’m a terrible, selfish person. I wanted a friend because I needed it to feel better and to feel happy about myself while I wallowed in self-pity.”

“Catherine, you’re not—“

“You wanna know something I’ve never told anyone?” she interrupted and continued before he could answer. “I actually hate myself. A lot. I’m a selfish, terrible human being, and it’s like I can’t stop, and I hate it.”

“You’re not selfish,” he spoke firmly, his optics focused intently on her, though hers faced the ocean.

“But I am,” she laughed pathetically. “Even right now I’m being selfish by telling you I’m that—it almost sounds ironic! I’m probably only doing this because I want pity, but I don’t even know for sure. It makes me feel like I’m becoming my parents sometimes.”

She looked up at him for a moment and smiled painfully, “I never told you why I hated them, huh? It’s because they were selfish, too, and they never even realized it. They only ever wanted what they thought was best for _them_. All my life they’ve tried to turn me into something I wasn’t and didn’t want to be—all to satisfy their little perception of reality. I was supposed to be their normal-girly daughter who was supposed to do everything exactly how they wanted. But I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t and—and they couldn’t seem to figure that out. It was just failure after failure and they could never let me be who I wanted to be. I had to be what _they_ wanted. I’m not even sure they really loved me. I don’t even think they loved me like a parent should love a child. I know I didn’t for them. Or, well, when I was a naïve little kid, I did, but then I got older and I realized all those things, and I just couldn’t love them. I couldn’t.

“It was the same for my ‘friends’ at school. Some friends!” she laughed, but it was as pained and as pitiful as before. “I never told them or gave any hints, but I saw it. They didn’t care. They didn’t care for the things I liked. They didn’t even try to, though I would for them. They would always give me that look. That God damned fucking look telling me to shut up because they didn’t want me to talk about what I wanted unless they liked it, too. I tried to like their things, and sometimes I did, but it hurt knowing they didn’t want to try being _my_ friend. They didn’t want to be _my_ friend, though I was _theirs_. There were so many one-sided friendships I was disgusted, and, of course, I only wanted them because I needed them. I needed people to just _want_ me, and each denial hurt.

“And that’s one of the reasons why Sam was so important. It was probably in part because we’d known each other so long, but he’s _always_ accepted who I was and wanted me around. Well, I mean, except for that summer last year when he basically forgot me. That hurt like hell, no joke. To be rejected by the only person in the world who ever wanted me without being someone who was supposed to like my parents—God, it was awful. It’s why I needed you so bad. I needed that gap filled, or I would have felt alone, and I… I hate being alone. I _hate_ it.”

She paused as her breathing became shaky, her eyes tearing up and her nose beginning to run. Her body had begun to shake with every word, and she had to rub her eyes to keep the tears from running. She didn’t know where her speech had come from or why she couldn’t seem to stop, but it was if it was no longer in her power.

“You’re not alone,” was all he said, and she nodded.

“I-I know,” she spoke through a choked sob. “But I can’t help being afraid. I’ve been rejected so many times that I’ve become too afraid to reach out to people anymore. Like this, I mean—saying all these things. I’ve never said any of this to Lennox, and he’s like a dad to me now. The dad I really wanted. I mean, I told him about how I felt about my parents, but not the rest of this. I’ve never even told Sam, and I trusted him the most! I’m just—I’m afraid of what they’ll think and see. I’m afraid they’ll leave me alone like everyone else has. God, I’m even a little afraid you and the others will leave me, too. I’m so afraid, Sideswipe, and I hate feeling that way. I hate not trusting you guys enough to believe you won’t just abandon me. I hate all of it, but I can’t help it. I’m just—I… I don’t want to be afraid of that anymore, but it’s so _hard_. Sam’s come back, I know, and I’m sure he won’t leave again, but sometimes I think he will for a split second, and I shouldn’t do that. That shouldn’t happen. And I feel terrible for it. How can I feel that way, Sideswipe? How can I be so terrible?”

There was no stopping the tears now as sobs broke through despite her strong will. Soft curses escaped her lips as she tried to wipe away the tears and keep herself from shaking, but she couldn’t. She had kept it within herself for so long that it had built up too strong for her will to handle. It was just too much. Too much hate; too much wanting; too much fear; too much sadness. It was too much.

“It’s okay,” he said softly as he reached to touch her side gently. She looked up, unsure, as he continued, “It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to be scared. Being alone is… It’s frightening. It’s okay to be wanted, too. And you’re not alone. You have the Autobots now, and we don’t abandon our friends. I won’t abandon you, either. Not again. I promise. So you don’t have to be afraid, and even if you are, it’s okay. You’re not being selfish or terrible. You’re just being… well, in your case, human. So, it’s okay.”

Warmth flooded through her, and though more tears came, it was not because of her words. This was different and it made the burden she had suppressed suddenly lift from her shoulders, and it felt wonderful. She did not bother to hold back her tears, smiling and nodding as she did so. If there were any traces of smog still within her, it was no more with his words, and any doubts lingering and waiting to strike her were pushed further away into the recesses of her heart and mind. She knew now that she would never again be alone, and she would be able to remember even when her doubts did try to come back.

“Thanks, Sideswipe,” she smiled up at him and leaned into his hand. “And starting over sounds… nice. I’d… I’d like that. A lot.”

A smirk played at his lips, “Then I guess we better get started. I’m Sideswipe, the best Autobot out there and an official ‘badass’ as you humans would put it.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sideswipe,” she laughed softly. “I’m Catherine, the human with the Allspark’s power and the official liaison for you guys or, as you would put it, your ‘boss’. And I swear, if you pull that crap from last week again you are so fired.”

The two laughed lightly, things slowly, but surely, moving towards a brighter place. And as it did so, a white-armored mech watched from afar, a smile on his face.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Needless to say, things got much better. Though they had “started over” it was more like things had simply not changed between them, and that was just fine. That wasn’t entirely true, however. Things _had_ changed. For the better. Yes, she knew she wouldn’t be able to forget what happened, but he was willing to try again and she was willing to do the same, so there was no point on lingering on the past. It would only serve to ruin things in the present, and she was not going to have any of it. She told the same to Sideswipe when he had meant to talk about it before they left, and they were definitely better for it.

Her happiness must have been a disease because her creations were equally happy the next day. Steeljaw was especially so and was glad to not have to worry over his creator’s wellbeing anymore. She would have like to spend more time with them in that happy moment, but she had certain duties to deal with today, the first involving heading to the Med Bay to receive Ratchet’s report. She had really meant to get it last night, but, well, she had been preoccupied with renewing a friendship. She supposed Ratchet might have something to say for her being late, but that was fine. She wouldn’t mind dealing with his snarky paternalism today.

And then things got awkward when she found Barricade lying against one of the tables, lifted up so that the mech looked to be standing, and Swerve acting as guard next to him. He didn’t look happy, and she didn’t blame him. Barricade, on the other hand looked uncaring and bored, as always. 

“Greeting, Catherine,” Ratchet spoke up, having noticed her although his optics were glued to his scans. The other sets of optics looked over at her, however, and Swerve even waved while the ex-Con snorted.

“Um… am I… interrupting? Should I come back later?” she inquired with hand gestures, looking between all of them.

The medic waved her in, “No, it’s fine. He’s just here for a quick check up and to make sure all the suppressors are in place.”

“It’s been nearly four Quartex and you still don’t trust me. You Autobots aren’t as naïve as I thought,” the black-armored mech smirked and received a quick swat from Ratchet.

“And you still haven’t learned manners. Anyways, the files are over on the counter. Would you mind getting them, Jolt?”

“Sure,” the electric-blue mech nodded and moved to them while Catherine came closer. She knew she really shouldn’t be around Barricade, but her powers were completely under control and she hadn’t absorbed energy in, well, _months_ , so it shouldn’t even happen on accident. She’d barely ever been around the ‘Con anyways, so it wasn’t like he had any suspicious. Swerve had no idea she was the Allspark, too, so she figured she was pretty safe at the moment.

“It would help if you stopped being such an ass, Barricade. You’d be surprised how far a bright personality and common courtesy get someone,” she hummed, and she heard him snort again.

“I don’t need a lecture from a human.”

“Shut-up, you,” Swerve growled, nudging the ‘Con, whom ignored him.

She jabbed a finger at him, “That. That right there is what I’m talking about. If you want people to like you, you’re gonna have to fix that.”

“I do not care if you humans like me.”

“Thanks, Jolt,” she spoke as the mech gave her the files and a wary look. She waved him off as she turned back to the Decepticon. “You really should. It would help keep them from shooting you before asking questions among other things.”

“So smug, and yet you would be the first to shoot,” he grinned, flashing his teeth. Ratchet paused this time to glance between them, the mood suddenly becoming tense. Catherine set a hand on her hip as she thought for a moment.

“Well, I won’t lie. I do still hate you for what you did, but I think I _might_ ask first if you’re not trying to kill me at the moment. Now, if you are trying to kill me then, yes, I will shoot first.”

He chuckled darkly, “Perhaps it is a good thing I didn’t kill you back then.”

“I _guess_ I’ll take that as a compliment. Whatever you meant by that. It’s better than the usual rudeness you give. Anyways, I was told to give you a second chance, so if you don’t attempt to kill me I’ll keep giving the benefit of the doubt. Still, work on the attitude, will you? No one likes to converse with a jerk.”

“Well, you’re done, Barricade. I suggest you go to the Rec room to get yourself an Energon Cube. Your levels are nearing sixty-four percent,” Ratchet spoke up, louder than necessary, and gestured for him to leave.

Barricade nodded silently and, with Swerve right beside him, he left. He glanced down at Catherine along the way, and he smirked at her ever so slightly. She honestly didn’t know how to take it, so she kept her unimpressed expression, and made sure to keep a mental flag of worry on him. At least he was acting more civilized than before, as in that he wasn’t a complete asshole every time he spoke.

“I see someone is feeling _bold_ today,” Ratchet hummed once the ‘Con had been through the doors. “Or perhaps arrogant? Either one borders on being foolish.”

“Call it… _daring,_ I guess,” she shrugged as she came closer, turning on the datapad to look through it. “Don’t worry—I don’t plan on being like this all day. Let’s just say I’m suffering from a ‘good time hangover’, or something like that.”

“Must be a human thing,” Jolt spoke, grinning a little, though the medic did not share his amusement. “Just be careful when any of us that know aren’t around.”

“I know. Anyways, thanks for all the little extra notes. This’ll help a lot when putting everyone together,” she smiled, pointing out the small bullets, all containing extra tidbits—although slightly biased coming from the medic’s perspective—on the mech the report was on. “I still need to talk to Prime about getting Smokescreen as a helper, though. It’s going to get tougher as more Autobots come. Were up to like twenty-three here now, after all.”

“Well, most aren’t that much trouble to begin with. But if you’re looking for Prime, he should be in his quarters. When I told him he had to take a break at least once a week I _meant_ it,” Ratchet huffed, and Catherine and Jolt shared a cheeky grin. Both had happened to come upon the argument between the two most indomitable forces on the base, and it had been amusing to say the least. Essentially, the medic was not happy their leader was spending too much time being commander and stressing his systems instead of being off duty. Optimus, of course, disagreed and said he had responsibilities as Prime, but it was only fuel for the fire and, inevitably, the Autobot Commander was sentenced to rest and relaxation once a week.

“Thanks, ‘Ratch,” she smiled and was about to turn to leave when she thought of something. “You know, if you wanted, I could assign a medical team to you. There’s plenty here and, well, you could use a little bit of practice with talking to humans, too.”

Had she been she anyone else, and if Ratchet hadn’t been Ratchet, she would have fled right there and then as he turned flaming, death-filled optics on her.

“I’m sorry, I thought you said you were going to get your little organic aft out of here to go speak to Prime. Was I mistaken? You better hope not,” he growled, though the threat was lost on her. However, she knew better than to continue invoking his wrath and so quickly scampered out. He would never throw a wrench at her, but he did have other methods of “torture”, as was the common word for it.

Catherine couldn’t keep her giggle in as she hurried through the halls, and only managed to stop once Evac and Blazemaster strolled by and waved while inquiring over her amused state. She only needed to state the medic’s name for them to understand and compliment her abilities to evoke his wrath and come out unharmed. She told them it was skill and they would get it soon enough, but then hurried off once more to find Optimus’s room. She knew it by heart now, and so allowed herself to be immersed in the datapad—not quite human sized, but not too big, either.

Brawn, of course, was the powerhouse of the four. He had shown that with his little tussle with Ironhide the other day, and she could see him as a good front liner, though at a disadvantage against shooters. Ratchet only confirmed it by stating he only really used pistols or a common blaster—nothing special and still meant for closer combat. He would be good for the strike assault team, although his apparent lack of subtlety made her reconsider. In the end, she decided she would pair him on the same line as Ironhide, and would give the golden-and-brown-armored mech some of Ironhide’s teams.

Springer was second in strength, and apparently the most reckless if Ratchet’s notes on him being a Wrecker were correct. Despite already having three incompatible ones at NASA—Springer apparently decided not to join the trio—, she didn’t honestly know a lot about them. From what did she know, though, they were like a group of multiple robotic versions of Bruce Willis in Die Hard that were best served for the heavy artillery team and impossible mission. Thankfully, they had just that here on the base, and since Springer was a flight-enabled mech, he could really hand it to the enemy. She just hoped he could keep his cool and not go crazy—she had seen _Live Free or Die Hard_. The tax payers would not be happy if he pulled the same crazy-unrealistic stunt the jet pilot made. She figured she could give some of Blazemaster’s teams to him, since both mechs were capable of flight and very dare-devil like.

Bluestreak she already knew just by reading about his sniping capabilities that he would go for that team. There just weren’t any real sniping Autobots on the teams. Jazz could do some long range, and Swerve had decent aim, but none were actually made for it. Bluestreak, however, was, and he was fast. His level of skill was almost unbelievable considering his temperament, but it was what it was. He was perfect for long range combat and cover fire, and that’s where he’d be. She also knew the perfect teams to give him—a couple of nice guys and gals who wouldn’t mind a kind, friendly and talkative Autobot to hang about with them. It was a shame she couldn’t put him closer to Knock Out, whom was a front liner, but it couldn’t be helped. This was for the best.

Lastly was Smokescreen, and she was greatly intrigued by his ability, which appeared to be his namesake. A smokescreen that could temporarily disable electronics? Fascinating. And perfect for the divisionary and infiltration team. He was also the coolest and focused of the four, which was exactly what was needed for a saboteur team. Jazz could use help in that area, too—Bumblebee was honestly the next best thing to her guardian, and though the Triplets were fairly decent, they weren’t good enough and were generally too quick to shoot. Smokescreen, however, was the kind of mech she needed. Jazz had made some good comments about him as well. Of course, that was for when he would be on the field.

It was off the field that brought her before Optimus’s door, conveniently finishing reading and deciding at the same time she reached the room. The entrance was ajar enough for a human to enter without having to pull—not that it would have worked with how huge the doors were—and she knocked, waited for his “enter”, and strolled in.

The room was dimmed, as were most of the rooms, but, unlike most, his was neat and uncluttered. In fact, the only thing really in it was his desk, the chair he sat on, and the bed—“berth” she remembered was what they called them—on the wall. Occasionally she would see boxes off on the side or corner, but for the most part his room was vacant. Granted, all he generally did was sleep in it for a few hours and then was out working with the government or his own team of humans. She’s actually meant for Lennox’s team to be under hiss command, but their abilities didn’t match up as well as the special assault force. Her team was more of “shoot, shoot, and shoot some more”, while Optimus was the hero who came in to save the day at the last minute, which they weren’t. Or, well, as a team they weren’t. Lennox was one on his own, but that’s not how things worked.

“Good morning, Optimus!” she called out, using his name since they were alone. It had become a privilege of sorts to call him by name when not around others, and she felt the pride swell whenever she did so. He looked up from whatever was on his desk—most likely paperwork or information—and smiled like he hadn’t expected her although they both knew he had known it was her even before she’d reached his door.

“Good morning to you, too, Catherine,” he replied warmly and set aside his work for the moment. “What brings you here?”

“Well, I’d like to say to chit chat, but you’re the lucky duck who gets today off,” she grinned as she came around to the side so he wouldn’t have to lean over his desk. He lowered his hand to lift her up, but she waved it off. “No need. I won’t be long. I just wanted to let you know I’ve got a pretty good idea of who to team the new guys up with, and then I wanted to see about getting Smokescreen to act as a second liaison, or to just help me out. Whatever works.”

He didn’t even pause as he replied, “Of course. We will aid you in any way we can. I’m afraid I never worked very closely with him, but the others have said he was good at keeping the troops calm, especially in times of great pressure. Shall I inform him for you?”

“That would be great, actually. And, Optimus, I told you that you don’t have to talk so formal with me. Be cool, y’know? Even if it is business talk.”

“My apologies—er, _sorry_ ,” he chuckled. “It comes with being a Prime, I suppose.”

“Well, _I_ think that you, Optimus, need to chillax even if you are a Prime. I mean, leaders have to take breaks, too. Hell, I’m just a liaison and I have to take a break from talking all formal or I’ll go bananas! Granted, all the politicians involved with NEST all a bunch of degenerate monkeys anyways.”

Optimus did well holding in his laugh despite the smirk she gave him. Even the Autobot Commander could not deny he found the human politicians tiring and even silly at times. He understood why they thought the tedious and tiresome process was needed, but it was more of a burden than a boon let alone safety measure.

“Anyways, I’ll get out of your hair—er, circuits now, so you can get your R and R, and _please_ tell me that is not government stuff on your desk. I do not want to have to explain why Ratchet tore up the base making sure you relaxed for once!”

“That would be… bad, to say the least,” he rumbled, glancing in no apparent direction other than not at her for a moment. “But to satisfy your worry, it is not government work. It is a… personal matter. Something I have put off for a long time.”

She raised a brow, “Okay, now I know you’re trying to make me stay. Are we talking casual personal, friend personal, or like super-duper-personal personal?”

“The kind I prefer to keep secret,” he hummed with a touch of humor, and she huffed in mock hurt.

“I see, I see. It’s probably a love letter,” she sighed, but then smirked. “To Elita-1 I bet.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” he grinned, unfazed by her ploy. She had a feeling she was right, though—the two had been getting more and more chummy lately, and not as in the “friends” or “bros” chummy.

“Yeah, yeah. I think Ratchet’s starting to rub off on you. Anyways, I’ll see you later maybe. I’ve got to head to training. I have to make up for all those days I missed!”

“Good luck, Catherine,” he chuckled and she waves as she trotted out, leaving the Autobot Commander to turn back to his work, his optics glazing over with memories as he gazed at the picture of a purple-armored warrior.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

True to her word, Catherine was making up for the days she had missed. Yes, she had technically been "sick" and given formal leave by Ratchet, but she knew she didn’t really deserve sick leave and told Ironhide not to make it so. He had wanted to refuse at first, but she convinced him and the others she needed to. So, there she was, in the late winter-early spring heat of the island which wasn’t all that much cooler than the summer at all, that she was running the obstacle course yet again. This, of course, was after doing the normal work out, followed by the team practices, and shooting lessons. She was exhausted, but the obstacle course was her last thing to do and then she could break with the others, whom were oh-so-kindly teasing her over by the water station, dousing their head with the water hose.

She withheld her groan as she vaulted up, grasped the ledge, and heaved herself over the wall obstacle. She landed, nearly teetering over, but then regained her balance, and sprinted the last bit. She finished and was all too happy to start walking with his her hands on her hips and her head held high. She let the sweat fall freely, her shirt fairly soaked and her arms of no use being completely wet. She looked to Ironhide as she gasped for air, and he nodded in acceptance.

“Good work. Your skills have improved,” he rumbled. “Although your endurance needs a bit more work, but we will work on that another time. Go rest now.”

“Will… Will do,” she sighed and slugged her way over to the other guys. Being the lovable group of boys that they were, they did her a favor and used the hose to splash her face right when she least expected it. The cold blast knocked her back despite its refreshing touch, and she shouted as they got the rest of her, too. Laughs went around while Lennox told them she’d cooled off enough and to let her be. At least one of them had sense, and she was happy to let them know what she thought as she tore off her shirt—under armor underneath, of course—and threw it at the nearest, which happened to be Epps.

“Hey!” he laughed as it splashed him right in the face. He quickly threw it back and she caught it as she moved to the hose and soaked her head. “No need to get mad, girl. We were just trying to help.”

“Because nothing helps more than shooting water into my face right after I'm dead tired from _just_ finishing the obstacle course. Thanks a bunch, Epps,” she replied, casting him a glare.

“Just remember it was you who wanted to do all the extra work,” Jackson smiled playfully and she shot a squirt of water at him.

“I know, I know. You guys aren’t helping, though.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” Anthon winked, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

“True, though you guys could work on how you show your affection. Trying to kill me just isn’t the best way to do it.”

“Aww, don’t get so mad about it,” David spoke up, clasping her on the shoulder. “We’re just glad you’re finally back to your usual self.”

“ _SÍ_. You gave us a little scare, _hermanita_ ,” Fig added, his and everyone else’s demeanor suddenly serious and concerned. She was glad for it, actually—it was nice to see they cared so much. They were all like family, after all. Her so very odd family of brothers and uncles and fathers.

“I know, _hermano_. _Lo Siento_. Sorry about that. Really. Just… Some crazy shit, y’know? But it’s all good now,” she smiled, though not everyone looked convinced.

“You are sure?” Alexander asked softly, always the kindest and most thoughtful of them, though he did not say much.

“Yeah. I think so. If not, I will be, but I’m pretty sure I am.”

“Well, you know you can always talk to us. I know we’re old men and all, but I think we’re still capable of helping,” Lennox replied, stepping closer to wrap an arm around her shoulder warmly.

She looked around and found the others had a similar look to their eyes. All were thinking the same thing. She was their little sister or niece or daughter—their little Catherine, or, well, maybe not so _little_ , but she was part of their family. It made her want to say everything right then and there. She wanted to tell them everything that happened. She wanted to tell them what Lennox already knew and more, but she stopped herself. As much as she wanted to, she knew she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Though her doubts for the Autobots were restrained, those concerning them still stood and made her hesitate.

She knew the day she no longer felt that, she would tell them, but not today. Today, she would smile and nod and say she would. And she did. And that was enough.

**_\-----------------------_ **

**_T_** ** _MWolf:_** _So_ , _just a little note 'cause I think I don't mention it at all or anything (I in part forgot but then did nothing about it, but I'll see about putting it in somewhere), but she's hidden the blades Sideswipe made for her away in her room for personal use for whatever reason. They'll come in handy at some point, so she'll keep 'em around :3 Oh, and I totally meant to mention it, but it just didn't fit into the prose, but they're made from his own blades. Being humans are much smaller, he only needed a tiny bit in comparison to the actual blade, so his are essentially unchanged. So yeah- her blades are Cybertonium! :D_

_Anywho- so was that conversation what you guys expected? Huzzah they're not breaking apart! You also got a look into Catherine's psyche! Hopefully that clears up a lot of her motives in regards to her parents, and also why she suffers such a huge breakdown when she loses those she holds really close :)_

_Also- more Barricade encounters! He's_ kind of _getting more civilized! But don't expect him to start groveling... ever. Not even joking. You can expect more Barricade encounters, though. Irony won't let them not meet up ;) And so you got a bit of a summary on the four new bots' abilities and personalities! Oh, and a bit of snarky Ratchet before that (I decided to bring back Spinger's "Wrecker" heritage from the comics, although he won't be joining up with the other, uh, more "zealous" members. Especially not when his lovely lady femme friends are at NEST ;P_

_Oh, and, if anyone asks- I do support Optimus x Elita-1. However, you'll have to wait and see on theirs. If you've ever read the comics or read up on them, then that's kind of the way I'm going. If not... Well, you'll found out a bit of the past IDW/Hasbro made for the movie universe of Transformers._

_I believe that's it. See ya next time!_


	30. Monday, Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mamas & The Papas - Monday, Monday
> 
> **Some language in this chapter and from here on out~

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The months that had passed by so quickly essentially came to a crashing halt. Or, that’s how it felt to Catherine, and that was just fine by her.

Granted, sometimes it made her days as a liaison pretty long, which meant reading paper after paper until she could finally burst through the door shouting “freedom” in such a way that Mel Gibson could only be more proud of if she’d worn a kilt and blue face paint. Unfortunately, the Autobots didn’t always understand, and she was often left alone to take humor in her antics. Her human companions were a bit better and even joined in some times, which helped make it feel like she was finally able to spend more time with them.

It was a shame that today wasn’t going to be one of those days, though. No; today, unfortunately, was paper duty day, and she had a larger load than usual. She had the new Autobots to blame—their arrival called for much paperwork and letters to government people about their skills, who they would work with, and all kinds of crap she didn’t really want to deal with, but she would. She did technically need official “approval” from the President for the grouping, although she had pretty good idea it was really the Self Defense blokes who dealt with and the President signed it without reading. Thankfully, General Morshower was one of those “blokes”, and usually kept things going smoothly. “Usually”, being the imperative word.

“Marissa, one of these days you’re going to have to tell me how in the _hell_ you didn’t go crazy doing all this,” Catherine sighed as she flipped her finished page over. She had completed her main report on the teams, and was just checking for errors or anything to be added, but it was still a pain.

Across from her in a chair, the brunette chuckled, “It gets easier the more you do it, especially once you show them they can’t push you around. They’re still testing you right now, but poke a little back and they’ll back off quite a bit.”

“Huh. I’ll remember that. I’m expecting them to call any day now, anyways,” the redhead snorted, glancing over at her actual business phone. She refused to let anyone use Teletraan to call her except the Autobots, Lennox, or Sam.

“Did I miss out on something?” Marissa inquired, glancing up from her own paper with a raised brow. Catherine leaned back, meeting the woman’s brown eyes. She was glad Marissa was her fellow liaison in this, although that time was soon to be over. She was intelligent, funny, and didn’t take crap from anyone around here. Granted, neither did Catherine, but she had to be less upfront about it since not everyone liked the Autobots, and therefore her. Marissa, on the other hand, was well known and could act as much like a matriarch dictator as she wanted. Catherine really wished the day she had to leave would never come.

“Not exactly. I think,” the redhead frowned. “There have just been questions about some of the materials ordered, and I happened to mention Ratchet was working on something to help out around here, and they’re taking it completely out of proportion.”

“Ah. Yes, they tend to do that. No doubt a ploy to get Autobot technology, I’m sure,” she hummed, returning to her work.

“Of course, and the answer will always be 'no'. For one, Ratchet’s just trying to make something to turn Earth metal into Cybertronian so their repairs will be better, and then he needs an easier way to make anti-rust thanks to all the sand and moisture around here.”

“Do you need any help? I can talk to a few people and see if the General can help, too.”

Catherine waved it off, “No. I’ve got this one. It’s just another basic ‘read-the-agreement-you-ninnies’ kind of thing. Minus the ‘ninnies’ part, of course.”

“Good to hear. I’m glad you’re finally feeling better, by the way,” Marissa smiled, and Catherine returned to her papers to try and get out of talking. The brunette was smart, and anything might tip her off. Catherine didn’t really want a lot of people knowing the truth of her "sick leave".

“Same, although I almost wish I had stayed off duty with the workload waiting. Thanks for taking some of it off my back, by the way.”

“Of course. You’ve learned all you need according to the requirements, but you’re still young and new at this. I can’t have NEST’s only good liaison on their side collapse, now can I?” she grinned, and Catherine clicked her tongue as she set her elbow on the desk and pressed her chin into her palm.

“Ugh. I’m still kind of worried over who they’ll send. Considering the recent increase in calls and messages, I’m guessing it’s going to be Galloway. Thank God he'll be staying off the island—I don’t think I could live with him stalking me everywhere, demanding this and that. His arrogance is enough to make me want to punch him in the face… or the balls. If he has any.”

Marissa gave her a mock-admonishing look, “Now, now, Catherine. That is no way for a lady liaison to talk about her coworkers, no matter how egotistical and obnoxious they are. Unfortunately, it does look like he will be working with NEST once I leave. However, you should be good enough to trade blows with him by then. You also have Prime and Jazz on your side, and they are both excellent at politics.”

“Trust me, I know, and I am glad for it!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up and leaning back into her chair. The movement startled Teletraan, whom chirped and hopped down into her lap. She smiled and stroked him, glad for his company. She saw Marissa smile, and was doubly glad for her companionship. She was one of the few that had accepted her drones without a second thought. If only there were more like her on the base. “I think Smokescreen will help, too. I’ve already asked Prime to send him a request since I don’t know his schedule or where his room is, and asking the others would have been… informal, I guess is a good word for it. Anyways, he seems like he’d do good with working things how we need.”

“That’s good,” the older woman nodded. “If I can, I would like to see him myself and maybe help get him better acquainted with the situation. If he isn’t already, that is. I envy their computer mind, sometimes.”

“It would help, I admit. Especially with stuff like this, but it does have its downfalls. For one, they still have some trouble appreciating the finer wonders of cartoons and comedy and sarcasm. I don’t think I could stand not understanding sarcasm.”

Marissa laughed softly, but paused when the alarm on her watch went off. She looked down briefly, and then stood as she began to gather her things. Catherine watched, already knowing the reason. Since her time was almost up, Marissa was spending a lot of time talking with the General and her own team about the switch and where she was going to be placed. It still wasn’t safe to be with her old team, so she was going to be sent to a new one in a new area for a little bit longer. She was by no means happy about it, but she understood, and so had agreed to the meeting to discuss details.

“Well, it’s time to for the meeting, so I’ll probably end up talking you tomorrow, seeing as you’re always off spending time with your little Autobot boyfriend,” she smiled playfully.

Catherine rolled her eyes, “Not my boyfriend!”

“That’s not what your team is saying,” she replied as she headed out.

“That’s because my team is full of jerks who can’t give me a break! Besides, that’s _weird!_ ” she shouted back, but then the woman was gone, laughing as she did so. The redhead huffed and slumped in her seat. She grumbled, mimicking the woman’s words, and then cursed her teammate. She ended with a sigh and looked down to Teletraan who had grown curious to her odd behavior. She smiled as she stroked him, rubbing the sensitive wires on his neck, which made him purr. Despite her earlier statement, she thought about what it would be like if one of the Autobots were her boyfriend.

She started with Sideswipe, wondering how that would be like, and found it wasn’t so bad. The size difference was unconventional and problematic, but it was a nice, cutesy relationship that she reeled as a movie in her head, but then transformed into a comedy as she thought of what kissing would be like. She tried out the idea with some of the others—Bumblebee; Knock Out; Evac; Springer; Bluestreak. All had their ups and downs, but, in the end, she busted out laughing. It was honestly ridiculous to think how that would work, and she could see why her teammates thought it was so funny, too.

“Besides, they don’t have the same understanding of relationships that we do,” she said aloud to the drone, picking up his hands to play with him. The little guy clicked and beeped excitedly as it swung its arms. “And honestly, _Sideswipe_ as my _boyfriend_? First of all, we just barely became real friends. Secondly, sure he’s got a nice vehicle mode and has his soft spots, but he’s sooo not my type. I’m more of the… Hmm, well, not sure, exactly. He needs to be strong and exercise, though. And make me laugh, too, I guess. Well, I’ve got a bajillion years to figure that out, and, frankly, I do not need any romance or relationships going on right now. No, sir!”

Though he didn’t understand, Teletraan still chirped in agreement and she poked his nose gently before placing him on the table. He rolled around on the papers, wanting to play more, but she poked him away, knowing she needed to work on them. She didn’t have too much more to do, to be honest, and she wanted to have it all finished by the time her duty was over. She could stay as late as she wanted—she wasn’t exactly getting paid after all—but she hated to do so. Thus, she worked.

Or, she would have, if the business phone hadn’t come ringing. She sighed deeply, already having an idea of just who it might be and, asking Teletraan to be quiet, picked it up. With a quick scan of the caller ID, her suspicions were confirmed.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Galloway,” she spoke with such bright and happy etiquette that she wanted to gag. “What do I owe the honor?”

 _“It’s nice to see somebody has manners over there,”_ his voice, like sharp nails clawing at a chalkboard, rang in her ears, and she silently rolled her eyes. _“I’ve called to discuss my earlier request. You’ve failed to reply, and I thought it would be better to resolve it at once rather than waste more time on e-mails._ ”

“Logical. I apologize for my tardiness. I have been sick these past few weeks, and was placed off-duty until I was fully recovered. I have finally gotten back and I have seen your request. I planned to send the reply once everything was done, but since you have essentially done us both a favor by calling I will give it now: the answer, I’m afraid, is no.”

 _“I see. Don’t think it rude, but I would like to have an explanation. We’re not asking for much, after all_ ,” he replied after a few moments, his tone growing hard and unhappy. She was tempted to tell him to "fuck off" and hang up the phone, but the professional side of her kept her from doing so.

“If you would recall, Mr. Galloway, the Autobots and the United States agreement does not allow for the sharing of Autobot technology outside of what Sector Seven already found and the Allspark Shard. What you ask for is beyond those parameters.”

_“I believe that was in regards to weaponry, Ms. Wolf. All we ask is that the Autobot medic—the green one, I believe—share some of his medical technology. It is our hope to adapt this to our own and improve upon it. I thought I clearly stated that in my letter.”_

_Oh, you did you arrogant son of a bitch._ “The alliance specifies _all_ technology, Mr. Galloway, _including_ medical tech. Furthermore, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet has made it clear that their technology is not suited to human means, and if his word is not enough, you may ask the young man who had the misfortune of tampering with some of his repair equipment and causing quite the fiasco not so long ago. I believe you sent a reply about keeping them better under control, but do correct me if I’m wrong. What I am getting at, Mr. Galloway, is that it is unsafe for _any_ Cybertronian technology beyond the Shard and what Sector Seven has acquired to be put into the hands of humans. So, I reiterate: the answer is _no_.”

She could tell he was about to make some argument, so she quickly continued, “And if you feel you are unsatisfied, then you are welcome to take it up with the General, although I can assure you his answer will be much the same. Now, you must forgive me, but I do have business to attend to so, if that is all you wished to ask me about, I would like to return to my work.”

_“No. That’s all.”_

“Until next time, Mr. Galloway” she spoke, a hidden smirk on her lips, which became a laugh once she’d put the phone back on the receiver. “Oh my _God_! What a douche! Oh, geez, that was fun, though. He has got to be so pissed! Man, that, right there, Teletraan, makes this job worth it, I swear.”

Teletraan tilted his head again, then rolled onto his back—a new cute habit of his—and she swirled her finger around his belly, which happened to be a phone screen. His legs kicked and pawed at her finger as he chirped happily. She smiled and playfully rolled him off her papers again, and he settled down by returning to his phone form and displaying three Z’s to show he was recharging.

“Clever little guy, aren’t you? Well, you are my kid, after all,” she smiled warmly and resumed reading her work, still hoping she could get finished by the end of the day, and that Galloway could defy all possible logic and suddenly came to the realization that he wasn’t going to get anything. At least one of those things had hopes of coming true.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_-Bbl, ‘Bee. Something’s going on and they need my help.-_

Teletraan sent the message while he clung to Catherine as she started jogging through the hallway, her short talk with the yellow Autobot cut short when Michael suddenly appeared in her office, shouting about a fight going on. She almost considered it ironic how she had just barely managed to finish her work and had been trying to talk with ‘Bee and then Sam later on since she’d been too busy to do so as of late, when the incident came up. All she heard was “fight” and “Autobots” paired with the worried expression on his face, and she knew it wasn’t good.

 _-Hope it’s nothing serious.-_ Bumblebee replied, and she really hoped so, too.

Thankfully her office wasn’t all that far from the training room, which was apparently where the problem was. Michael, panting from having been already working and sprinting to her office, waved and pointed at the small crowd of soldiers and Knock Out, standing just outside of it uneasily and at a complete loss. She could hear the shouting, but not necessarily make it out, and so rushed over. One of the soldiers noticed her and quickly motioned her over and helped push her through, noting he was glad she was here. She asked what was going on, but by then she was in the circle, and she watched as one of the two men in the middle—a medium-built, dark-haired man that was American by accent—jabbed a finger up at Knock Out.

“How can you just take orders from one of them like we’re their lap dogs?!” he growled, glaring at the other man—this one of larger build, tanned skin, brown hair, and an unhappy frown. “I, for one, am so sick and tired of taking their orders! He’s been running us dry and for what? For his own damn purpose! I joined this team to kill these things—not obey them!”

“B-but that’s not—I didn’t—,” Knock Out tried, but he faltered as the men and women supporting his attacker shouted up with agreement.

“We’re not obeying them! They’re training us to work with them to stop the real enemy—the Decepticons!” the brown-haired man barked back, his arms folded across his chest, and his gaze hard.

“What Decepticons?! You mean the one they let right into our base? Yeah, they’re sure as hell protecting us alright!”

“He’s a neutral, though,” Knock Out tried once more, and the man turned on him.

He snarled, “Shut it you overgrown tin can! We don’t want you or the others here! We can fight the Decepticons ourselves!”

Again a chorus of agreement went up behind him, and Catherine decided enough was enough. Despite realizing her disadvantage in both strength and numbers, she stepped closer with a blare.

“You really think that?” she spoke up loudly, and all eyes turned to her. The brown-haired man let a brief smile come to his face as she came to stand in front of him, Knock Out breathed a sigh of relief, and the dark-haired man sneered.

“Damn right I do. We’ve been training on our own for months, and we have the weapons to do it.”

“If you believe that then you're as arrogant as you are foolish, and I'm in the right mind to ask General Morshower to dismiss you,” she replied coolly, eyes narrowing. “The Autobots are the only real defense humanity has against the Decepticons should they come full force rather than using the clandestine strategies they're using right now. We should consider ourselves lucky they don’t want to be found; there would be many more dead if they did.”

“Don’t try and use your fucking words on me, Autobot-lover. We all know you prefer them over your own kind!” he snapped back. “What do you know, anyways? You haven’t been to war—you’re just a god damned liaison!”

She kept the scowl from her face, “I prefer the Autobots whenever I have to deal with people like _you_ —people who are intolerant and stupid. I won’t deny I’ve never fought in any _human_ war, but I can guarantee I know damn well what I’m talking about when it comes to Decepticons. I was there at Mission City. You ask anyone else who was there. I fought the Decepticons. I fought fucking _Megatron_. You have _trained_ with Autobots—mechs who are trying to help you, not _kill_ you. So yes, I do know what I’m talking about even if I am just a god damned liaison!

“And you know what I learned in Mission City? I learned how powerful the Decepticons are. They _slaughtered_ thousands in a matter of minutes. They can take out a man like you with the flick of their finger if they don’t feel like using their blasters which can incinerate you and everyone else around you! The only reason I, or anyone else, survived that battle was because the Autobots were there. There would be no NEST if the Autobots hadn’t been there. There would be no United States—hell, no _North America_ , or Europe or Asia or Africa or anywhere—if the Autobots hadn’t been there! Therefore, I suggest that the next time who think you shouldn’t listen to their guidance or think you don’t need their help, think _twice_.”

While the man still seethed, those behind him seemed to have shrunken back, their courage not so great anymore. Behind her, she heard some calls of “yeah” and other forms of approval, but didn’t acknowledge them. She did not intend for her to become a hero for this—or even a martyr of sorts if it came to blows. She had a sinking feeling it might with the demeanor of the man before her. She recognized him a little now, and recalled him being one of the more prominent opponents to the Autobot integration. His hubris was astounding, and she knew her words had done nothing to temper his hate. She knew not what caused it, but she would not have it ruining things. He either had to change, or he would have to go.

He smirked a little, “You must think you’re something special then. The Commander brought you here himself, didn’t he? That guy is an Autobot-lover, too, huh? He and the black one get along swell. He probably thinks he’s hot shit from all the talk in Mission City. Probably fancies himself a damn hero. But I’m not buying it. I think you and him and all you other damn robot-huggers are full of shit.”

“Don’t you dare talk about our Commander that way!” her brown-haired ally snarled, stepping forward.

“Some ‘Commander’!”

“I would advise you desist, soldier. You are verging on a court martial,” Catherine hissed.

“Look at you—thinking you have so much power. All because you’re his little slu—,” he began, but never finished.

She saw it in her mind even before he said the word. Her fists had been aching to do it. Just his face was enough reason for her to sock him, and that last bit was the final straw. She had it building up the whole time—charging forward, her fist pulled back. She saw him unprepared; saw time slow for a split second as everyone watched with wide eyes. She saw him mouth “oh shit”, and then the collision of knuckle upon flesh.

Only, it wasn’t _her_ fist.

She almost didn’t realize it at first, but it had not been her punch that sent the dark-haired man sprawling and blood splattering across the floor. The crowd around them grew quiet as the brown-haired man stood above the arrogant one, his knuckle red, busted open from the strike. The others made no sound or movement as the dark-haired man staggered up, the blow dizzying him. The brown-haired man meant to make another strike, but Catherine regained herself in that instant and pressed a hand against his chest, stopping him.

“You’ve done enough,” she spoke softly, and he pulled back while she looked to the man’s supporters. “One of you—take him the clinic. The rest of you, get back to training. The Commander will hear about this, I assure you, and so I would advise you think twice as well before you chose what side to stand behind in this fight.”

A woman complied with her request and helped guide the dark-haired man until he regained his balance while the rest backed off, returning to their original posts. A few of the redhead's supporters remained, including the brown-haired man, and so did Knock Out. Catherine turned to the soldier, wishing to thank him, but unable to do so. He had really saved her with his punch. If she had done it, it would have been devastating. Not only would she have slandered herself, but Lennox too by acting out violently to protect him. They didn’t know he was like a father to her and meant so much because he had done so much, and she was not inclined to tell them the story behind it.

“Go get yourself looked at, too, soldier. Although, I’d suggest in a different wing than the asshole,” she smiled up at him, and he nodded.

“He’s been like that for some time. He’s harassed Knock Out a lot, but the little guy won’t say anything. I couldn’t let it stand—especially not when he started to insult the Commander. Brat has no respect. I don’t even know how he got into NEST,” he sighed, looking over his knuckles and then pressed his other hand to them to stop the bleeding.

“Well, hopefully I can find a way to get him out. It might make him look more right, but the longer he stays the more harm he’ll do. I don’t suppose you know his name?”

“He’s William Hickey,” Knock Out spoke for the soldier, his optics dimmed and his mouth set in a frown. “Thank-you Catherine, and you too, Gregory. I’m sorry, also. This is my fault. If I wasn’t always trying to make you guys the best team…”

A blonde-haired female spoke up, “It’s not your fault, Knock Out! Will’s just an asshole, and we need to be the best if we want to beat all those ‘Cons hiding out there, so don’t you worry, you hear?”

Catherine smiled, as did Knock Out, whose wheels turned with excitement and optics glowed a bit brighter.

“Yeah,” spoke another soldier, this one a black-haired man with some European accent. “Besides, you’re a great guy, Knock Out! You’re really funny, too! And we are doing better than a lot of the other teams.”

“Most of us don’t feel the way Brent does, either,” Gregory added, smiling up at the Autobot. “Those guys with him were just lazy asses who didn’t want to do all the work, even though we need it. They’ll figure that out, though, whether I have to punch all of them in the face or not.”

“Better let me sock the girls then, otherwise you’ll look bad,” the blonde-haired woman laughed, patting the brown-haired man on the shoulder.

Knock Out’s smiled widened, “Thanks, guys. I promise I’ll keep making sure we do our best then!”

Catherine stood off to the side, watching, and just like Knock Out, her smile grew wider. This. This was one of those rare things that made her happy. To see the Autobots and the humans getting along almost as well as she did… It was thrilling. It gave her hope, and made her worry less about the future for the organization. Of course, there would always be the problematic people who threatened to rip apart the tentative bonds they were making, but so long as people like Gregory, the woman, and the European soldier were around, then it would continue to hold on, slowing growing until not even those who opposed it could lay their hands upon it.

 _I think my work is done. Time to let Optimus and Lennox know about this. They’re going to be unhappy, but… Well, hopefully getting rid of the tumor will heal some of the cancer_ , she thought as she turned to leave. She found Michael waiting for her not far away, a happy smile on his face. She grinned a little as she came to stand beside him, and they both looked back at the small group of three humans and one Autobot, the other soldiers out working and waiting for their teacher.

“That didn’t go so bad,” he began, chuckling a little.

“Thank God,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’ve got to get that guy out of here, though. I’ve got a name, so it can be done.”

“No objections here. He’s an ass to normal people, too. I know I’ve never gotten along with him,” the young man grinned foolishly.

“And maybe no one else will have to either. Anyways, you should really stop coming to me only to drag me into this stuff, Michael. I’m going to start avoiding you if you do.”

He rubbed the back of his head, “Yeeeeah… I’m, uh, sorry about that. I, just… I know you can handle it and it’s like your area of expertise and all. Um… Yeah. Sorry?”

“Don’t worry, I’m only teasing, although you did interrupt my conversation with ‘Bee,” she laughed, waving off his apology. He tilted his head curiously and she lifted up Teletraan. “He’s the one with Sam. I text message him every now and then. He’s a lot of fun to talk to, especially when you read his stuff in his British accent.”

“Um… You know,” he began, his eyes looking down as he rubbed his head again. “Maybe… Maybe you should…. Y’know, spend more time with _us_.”

When she gave him an unhappy look he quickly continued, “I mean that--- that, um… It would… It would look better to people if you did. You do…um, spend a lot time with the, ah, Autobots. You don’t have to be with random people, though. I mean, you could, um, hang with me or something or…”

“You have a point,” she sighed, setting her hands on her hips to think. Besides her, Michael got hopeful. “I guess part of it’s because I spend most of my time over there and the rest is with my team. But then people over here don’t exactly help. I’m not going to lie—I can tell people aren’t all the easy going around me. Sure, you, and Gregory and the others might be, but a lot aren’t. It’s not like I don’t _want_ to hang with you or anyone else, but it’s like they don’t want to, and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable by forcing myself on them. Maybe after more time passes I’ll be around more, but they still need time to get used to things.”

He frowned, disappointed, “O-Oh… I guess that makes sense…”

“But hey!” she exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You should come to the Autobot side more! I bet you’d get along great with Bluestreak! Evac loves everybody so he’d work, too! I’d introduce you to Opti—er, _Prime,_ but he’s always shut in his office, the workaholic! I’d let you meet Sideswipe, too, but he likes to play the rude game or some trick or something like the idiot he is. I promise they’re all great, though!”

“Um… I guess… Maybe… If I have time.”

“Cool! Just let me know and I’ll see if we can’t find any free people. Anyways, I actually do need to go report this. Good luck with training!” she smiled and hurried off, quickly sending a message to Bumblebee that things were alright. For now.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

**\-------------------------------------------------------------**

“I heard there was a fight down in the training room,” the familiar voice of a certain silver mech hummed, and she let herself fall onto her back to look at her friend from an interesting perspective. He chuckled at her antics as she set her datapad down and rolled up.

“Something like that, but it was resolved,” she waved, and then ducked as Ratchet’s arm went over her head to grab a giant, Autobot-sized wrenched provided by the government.

Ratchet glanced over at the mech, “I'm either hallucinating or this is some prank by you and Jolt, because Sideswipe is here on time. If I were Prowl I would have short-circuited by now.”

“Well, since I’m just as surprised as you are, and not stupid enough to prank you, that really is Sideswipe here. On time,” Jolt replied, peering around his mentor to look at the silver mech who rolled his optics.

“Look, I had nothing else to do, alright? Besides, it’s better to just get this over with, and I don’t feel like playing dodge-the-Ratchet-wrench tonight,” he huffed as he rolled over to one of the propped medical tables. He stepped in calmly and folded his arms while Ratchet continued to work and Jolt still stared. Catherine did, too, and raised a brow.

“That’s still unlike you. When you’re bored you either go spar or you come looking for me,” she began, and then smirked a little. “And since _I’m_ here, it must be the latter. Missed me already Sidey-kins?”

“If I didn’t understand sarcasm I think I might have gagged,” the medic rumbled as he turned from his project to Sideswipe. The medic was one of the few that did, and it was a good thing, too.

Catherine grinned cheekily, “Don’t worry, Ratchy-poo, I have a name for you, too, and oh shit that rhymed.”

“By the Allspark, offline me now! I don’t know if I can take this idiocy any longer!”

“Well, you’re going to have to with the Twins due tomorrow morning,” Jolt spoke, and ducked with perfect timing as a wrench went right through the space his head had been occupying. One of the perks of beings Ratchet’s assistants was learning how to dodge his throws, and the electric-blue mech was a master.

“’Sidey-kins’?” the silver mech inquired, and the redhead shrugged.

“Not my best impromptu, but hey—It’s late and I’ve had an eventful day.”

“I’ve made better impromptu than that during a sixteen solar cycle battle.”

“Pssh. Liar,” she huffed and turned back to her spark studies. She still wasn’t sure she was getting better. It didn’t feel like it, anyways, although she basically knew everything about them now.

“No, he’s telling the truth. They’re just usually kind of 'corny', if I'm translating that right. Like those human ‘puns’,” Jolt stated, and Sideswipe just shrugged in confirmation.

“Stop moving,” the medic barked, and the silver mech straightened at once. “Unfortunately they’re both correct. I’ve been the victim of it for _vorns_.”

“Vorn? That’s… eighty-three years right?” she asked, and Jolt nodded. “Well, damn. I know when I’m beat. Oh, well. At least I can make better comebacks than you any day. Jackson’s been training me up some, too, so I’m better than ever.”

“Only because Ratchet’s comeback-proof, so being within a fifty mile radius makes it impossible to do,” the silver mech barked back, and she snorted.

“Lies. I totally owned you at the farm, and Ratchet was nowhere in sight.”

“That’s because Ironhide was there, and so was Annabelle. I can’t curse around her.”

“Cool story, bro, but it ain’t gonna fly this airline.”

“You know what, you and me—we’re going to go to the Lennox’s one time and we’re going to go out in the fields and I’ll show you how good I am. Just you wait.”

“I look forward to it. Bring a cube for your tears so you can refuel your suckage intakes!”

“As _happy_ as I am to see your relationship blooming so wonderfully, would you both kindly shut up?! He keeps moving and throwing off my scans, and I could have had him out of here kliks ago!”

“Ratchet, you have plenty of time to work on the project,” his student spoke softly, but the medic scowled.

“Not nearly enough. The more repairs I make with Earth materials, the weaker your armor gets. Your Energon nanites can’t convert the metal completely and it leaves you vulnerable, which means you’ll be in here more often with greater damage,” he grumbled, and the group became quiet as they realized the severity of his work. Even Sideswipe had nothing to say as he lay still, allowing the medic to finish the scan and look over his data. That was over quickly enough and he gave the silver mech the O.K. Then he turned back to the half-made machine sitting on the table not far from Catherine, looking through the blueprints on his own datapad. Jolt exchanged looks with the two of them before moving over to join and help him with calculations.

“Sorry, ‘Ratch,” Catherine spoke at last, eyes downcast. The medic paused in his work, his optics dimming as he looked over at her. “I just—I didn’t realize it was that serious.”

After a moment he sighed, “And you shouldn’t. I did not meant to give you reason to worry. In truth, it would take countless of your years to make us dangerously vulnerable, but if we do nothing, it will happen. I cannot rely on your powers, either, and your lifespan is not infinite like ours can be. Anyways, don’t worry yourself over it. We’re doing well so far, and it should be able to work in the end.”

“Well, whatever you need just let me know. I’ll make sure you get it,” the redhead smiled, and a smaller one appeared on the medic’s face. He returned to his work then, and Sideswipe came up beside Catherine.

“And, um, I guess I’m sorry about always making things hard,” he spoke, rubbing the back of his helm. The medic looked up suspiciously, but then nodded and looked back down. The silver mech exchanged a look with the redhead, but she shrugged.

“I actually kind of enjoy your stupidity,” Ratchet said suddenly without looking up.

Sideswipe chuckled, “I’ll take that as a compliment then.”

Ratchet hummed, keeping his eyes on his work, while Jolt met the silver mech's optics and gave a thumbs-up. He was quickly elbowed in the side, his antics having not gone unnoticed by his mentor. Both Autobot and human laughed a little, and then moved off to be by themselves.

“So, how are the studies?” he inquired, gesturing to the datapad. She knew he no longer meant it as an interest for reviving his brother, and so she was not reluctant to answer.

“Eh, so-so,” she replied, emphasizing with her hand. “As in, I know it, but then I don’t know it. You know?”

“Um. No. That… No.”

She sighed, “Okay, um… It’s like, I know all the information, but I can’t apply it. Something’s just missing from it. Like, if I know how to solve a math problem and have a pencil, but no lead. I think that’s it, anyways.”

“I… I think I get it. So no ideas on how to fix that?”

“Nope, which is frustrating! I just wish I knew what it was!” she groaned, throwing her arms up and then slumping to one side.

“Maybe if you stopped studying and just let it come to you?” he suggested, and, seeing her weird look, continued. “Well, it’s like how I am with my moves. I once trained for forever to get this one move right, but I just couldn’t. I got frustrated and stopped, but then when I came back after a long time I got it. I don’t know how, but it all just suddenly worked. Maybe that’s what’s going on with you?”

She thought on it for a while, and nodded, “Maybe. I wouldn’t mind taking a summer break from spark school.”

“Then you’ve come to the right mech,” he winked, holding out his hand. “Allow me to escort you.”

“Goodness, Sideswipe. You’re such a gentleman these days! _Me gusta_ ,” she laughed as she stepped on.

“Don’t get used to it. I’m just in a good mood.”

“As in you didn’t get completely whooped by Ironhide?” she teased.

“You just _had_ to pull that one, didn’t you?” he sighed, shaking his head as he set her on his shoulders and rolled for the door.

“Of course, but it’s only because I love you oh so much, Swipey-kins.”

He paused to look up her, optic ridge raised, “Okay. We need to talk about these nicknames. They’re… they’re weird. 'Swiper' and 'Sides' I can understand, but ‘Swipey-kins’?”

“Well roll on then—we’ve got plenty of time before I have to sleep.”

She didn’t need to say more, and she and the silver mech strolled out through the hanger doors, leaving Ratchet and Jolt to their work. When they could no longer hear them, Jolt glanced up at the door and then back down.

“They’re kind of adorable together,” he mused with a silly grin.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘adorable’, but he’s certainly much better for it. Less annoying. And it helps his spark. He was a fragging mess when I checked him in the brig. I don’t know what happened, but she’s helped him a lot in just a few days.”

“Well, that’s good,” the electric-blue mech hummed, and, after a pause, spoke softly. “I really hope Sunstreaker is alive.”

Ratchet paused for an eternal moment before continuing his work, “Me, too, Jolt. Me, too.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _And that's that! :D So, I hope you enjoyed that little visit from Galloway! You also got see Catherine "professional" side! I work the same way- with friends I'm completely casual and tend to have a dirty mouth (tee hee), but with work/adults/discussions I take a proper, formal tone :) Galloway is, of course, a pushy jerk, but 'Cat won't let him get what he wants ;) Jerk underestimated her, too, which is the reason why he completely lost that conversation, fyi. Don't expect things to be so easy as time goes on :P_

_Anywho~ SO. She does talk to 'Bee- mostly through text messaging and generally whenever Sam is busy. You also get to see some of the divide between NEST over the Aubobots. Just to relieve everyone- MOST are for the Autobots! And not all the reasons are the same as Brent's, but some are similar to that. Catherine, obviously, gets to deal with it. Good think Gregory was there to keep her from getting in trouble :D Knock-Out's so lucky to have such good human companions? (and again, this is ROTF Autobot Knock-Out who is VERY different from Prime Decepticon Knock-Out. Like a 180-different character, actually xD)_

_Alas, poor Michael. He gets no love. :D Catherine is oblivious, too, ha ha~ I'm such a terrible authoress, tee hee~!_

_And so he see some of the fruits of their conversation! The two are on rather good terms now, and Cat is even making nicknames! Yes, they are dumb. Not her best "impromptu" as she said ;) And Ratchet's dialogue is and will forever be the best thing to write. Oh Primus, I have fun writing his words :) And, yes, some of his anger issues/intolerance has been stemming from his stress over the project. I'd say it's pretty serious, since Earth metal is definitely weaker than Cybertronian, and he can't (and won't) rely on Cat since it could easily put her in danger, and then it's a bit of medic pride, too._

_Oh, and, so yes, Sideswipe spark was unstable during the past few weeks/months, which is why he started to snap. It's been going on for quite some time, actually, which is why it got so bad in that one incident~ And, of course, as you all know already, Jolt's worries are for naught- SUNNY IS ALIVE! HUZZAH!_

_And I'd say that's it for now. So... That's all folks! :D_


	31. Rumor Has It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adele - Rumor Has It

\-------------------------------------------------------------

It was kind of like a dance. A really, really, _really_ dangerous and beautiful dance.

Ironhide would throw his body one way, his fist leading it, and Chromia would spin just in time to twirl around him, a smirk painted across her silver face. A grin was across the black mech’s as well as he kept his optics trained on hers, and moved to dodge her own swift and deadly strikes. She was much faster and more agile, and so was able to graze his armor, chipping off needle-thin streaks on his black armor, but then he would kick her away. Her turquoise armor was spotless as she ducked low and spun behind him. Though he was not as quick, he was battle hardened and knew to turn as he threw a punch. Again, she dodged, laughing lightly, and he could not help but do the same.

Catherine watched it all with awe from the sidelines, as did Chromia's sisters and Springer, whom were talking quietly among themselves. She could still hear, however, and knew they were commenting on how well the two fought, or point out any mistakes they might have seen, but the most popular talk was of when the two would finally stop messing around and get “it”—whatever “it” was—done with. While it was mesmerizing to watch the mech and femme duke it out, her female nature in regards to gossip was not to be ignored, and so she inched closer with curiosity.

“Wait,” she called out, making all three look down at her. “What are you guys talking about exactly? What this ‘it’ thing?”

The air around all three suddenly became uncomfortable, and she didn’t need her powers to know that. Just by the way Arcee and Elita-1 exchanged amused, but awkward glances, and the way Springer began to rub the back of his green helmet as he refused to make eye contact with her, she knew. With that she didn’t really need them to say anything else to figure out what they were talking about, but she was still curious. She also wished she’d asked Ratchet more about certain Cybertronian aspects.

“Well, you see,” Arcee began, although was stopped by Springer, who elbowed her. Their optics dimmed slightly as they faced one another, and she knew they were talking over the comm. links. Being that she never actually acted professional around the Autobots, she rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. Thankfully, Elita-1 was not part of the discussion and was very much so more mature, so she took it upon herself to roll closer to the redhead.

“I’m surprised Ratchet hasn’t said anything,” she chuckled softly, and Catherine shrugged.

“Never came up. And, I mean, it’s not like I would think about it—if 'it' is what I think it is, anyways. Is it?”

She smiled playfully, “And what do you think _it_ is, Catherine?”

“Like human sex, but with robots?”

“Close, but not quite,” the purple-armored femme laughed, and behind her Springer and Arcee finally stopped their conversation to join them.

“Are you sure we should be talking about this? Won’t Ratchet get mad?” Springer inquired, frowning at the thought of what the medic might do as punishment.

Elita-1 waved him off, “If anything he’ll be happy we gave him a break from explaining things. Anyways, Catherine, as I said—the ‘sex’ you humans have is a good translation for it, but at the same time, it’s not. You know about sparks, yes? As in what they’re made of and how they work?”

“I’ve only been studying all about that for months now. They’re pretty much your DNA batteries. They provide your bodies with energy to move, and the sparks have wavelengths which determine your function and capacities for that function.”

“Good. This will make things easier,” the femme nodded. “I’m sure you know, but all sparks are different. Each has their own specific signature made from the wavelengths which identifies us. For instance, even if I could not see, I could pick out Springer or Arcee from a group of 'bots by his spark signature. This is important, because sparks play more of a role than just determining what we will be. The signatures we give off are detected on what you would consider an ‘instinctual’ level, although it can be analyzed in scans and data can be collected. And it’s from that instinctual sense that we decide whether we like a mech or femme or not.”

“In Springer’s or my case,” Arcee spoke up; gesturing to herself and then the green mech. “Our signatures are fairly close, so we’re compatible to a degree, which makes it easy for us to get along with each other.”

The green mech nodded, “And if our signatures weren’t so close, well, I might be arguing with her now instead of agreeing and talking. In fact, we might not even be in the same room or we could even come to blows if our spark signatures were so different that they repulsed each other.”

“I… I think that makes sense. Kind of like a first impression, but it’s the final impression, too,” the redhead hummed, tapping her chin, but then frowned. “But can’t you get past that, or is just a set thing? Like, sometimes people with bad impressions change.”

Elita-1 smiled softly, “I’m afraid that’s a pleasure we Cybertronians don’t enjoy. The reason being that the signature is a direct reflection of how and who we are. Our spark makes us, remember? While we may change a little, say be happy or sad, we’re generally the same for the rest of our lives. If drastic changes do occur, it’s because our wavelengths or signatures have been altered by outside means, or sometimes by the mech or femme themselves, but it’s a very dangerous to alter a spark. So, essentially, if a mech or femme is born with a spark inclined to violence, they will remain so unless their spark is changed in some way.”

“Okay…. But… but wait—what about Optimus? He was originally a scientist who found artifacts, but now he’s your commander. If what you say is true, how did he change?”

“Ah, well, you see,” the purple femme began, her optics brightening at his name. “Optimus always had the potential within him. He’s a descendent of the Primes—a carrier of a leader’s spark. He was not prominent before the Allspark was found, and because there was peace there was no need for him to lead, so he instinctively sought knowledge to learn. Then the war came and he answered his true calling.”

Catherine nodded, understanding, though couldn’t help, but notice the way the femme smiled as she spoke of Optimus. While at first it may have seemed like the common respect a soldier had for their commander, she could tell that there was something more there. Something deeper. However, now was not the time, and it wasn’t her place to pry in such business despite her curiosity.

“Anyways,” Arcee cut in, abruptly pulling both the redhead and her sister from their brief stupor. “So you know what happens when two spark signatures reject each other. Now, on the other hand, if two spark signatures are very close and compatible to an even higher degree than me and Springer…”

“Then it becomes possible to form a ‘bond’ between the sparks. A Spark Bond is what we call it,” Springer finished. “It’s not very common, though. Even before the war it was rare, and once the war started it was nigh impossible to find potential Spark Bond mates or Spark Mates or Bond Mates for short.”

“Whoa… So… So how does that work, exactly?” the redhead pressed, eyes wide with excited curiosity.

“Well, first of all, there are three types of known Spark Bonds, Spark Mates being one of them,” Elita-1 spoke. “The other two are those between siblings, such as myself and my sisters or the Twins, and the third is that between a creator and its creations. It’s possible there are more, but, as Springer said, Spark Bonds are so rare none besides those three have been recorded.”

“Dang… Well, um, I guess, can you explain them too me?”

“You sure we shouldn’t get Ratchet to say this part? He’s more of the spark expert,” Springer piped up, but again Elita-1 waved him off.

“You forget I and my sisters are Femmes, Springer. We know as much about sparks as any medic,” she admonished, and the green mech rolled his optics, muttering a low “of course”. Besides him, Arcee grinned and her optics dimmed again as she spoke to him through their comm. link again.

Elita-1 looked back to Catherine, “I imagine you’re curious about that statement, too. I can explain it later, once we finish this one if you’d like, but for now I’ll explain the sibling bond first. I’m sure you’ve noticed how Skids and Mudflap are in tune with one another—more so than any mech or femme you’ve seen before, correct?” Catherine nodded.

“That’s because of the sibling Spark Bond they share. They are Twins—brothers, created from the same spark and so are connected by it because their signatures are almost completely the same. I say ‘almost’ because they are not perfect Twins. The same can be said for me and my Sisters; we all came from and thus technically share the same spark, but each is slightly different. Because of the closeness, our emotions and thoughts are attuned to one another. You could call it a ‘psychic’ connection, if that is easier. It’s not perfect, of course—we cannot _read_ each other’s minds, but we are better able to sense our emotions to where it is almost as if we _can_ read each other’s thoughts. It’s also strong enough to allow us to sense one another within a certain range, and I’m sure you can see the advantages of that.

“As for the creator and creation bond, it is very much akin to the relationship between a human mother and child, although it is for both creators. It takes two to make a full spark, and any two sparks that are in tune enough for the Spark Bond can do so. It does not matter for type either; a mech can bond with another mech, a femme with another femme, or a femme and a mech, or even a quadruped with one of the three, although a quadruped with a mech or femme is even more rare than a Spark Bond. I suppose that might seem odd for you, as you humans have gender and so many vastly different species, but you must remember that Cybertronian do not have genders—only types, and all that matters is the affinity of the spark. Do you understand so far?”

She had to admit—for a second there she had been kind of put off by the whole “quadruped-and-mech-or-femme” thing. She really shouldn’t have, but she figured her reason was reasonable. The only quadruped she’d seen was Steeljaw, and, well, he looked like a lion while mechs like Springer or femmes like Elita-1 looked like people, so the image of the two having sex—albeit robot Spark sex— was… awkward. Thankfully, Elita-1’s last bits of information helped clear up that misconception, and by God was she glad for it. It made sense, too—they didn’t have reproductive organs, so it wasn’t anything weird. Sort of. Okay, so she would be lying if she said she didn’t find it weird, but it was getting better.

“Yeah,” she nodded finally, and Elita-1 went on.

“When two sparks of any type have a strong enough affinity, they can then come together and merge their sparks temporarily. It’s hard to describe the act—one has to feel it, and it varies per couple—but the resulting reaction creates Energon that’s made of the combined energies of the two sparks. The Energon can then be channeled or absorbed into a Spark Box—you’ve probably seen one in the Med Bay—and can form a spark, or, as we call them, Sparklings. Unlike sparks from the Allspark, these ones have a connection to those it came from because their signatures are a combination of the creators’ spark signatures. That way, when the spark becomes a Youngling, it is greatly attached to its creators, as are the creators to the Youngling. They form what you would call a ‘family unit’, so to speak, until the Youngling gains its fully upgraded form. However, even once fully grown, the bond remains, and they stay very close until death. Before the war, that usually meant nearly forever by your standards, but... Well, I’m sure you understand.”

Catherine winced a little as she nodded. It wasn’t so unlike human beings, although the “Younglings” would leave the family after they grew up. Of course, visits were common, so it was nearly the same in a way. If only humans could be more like Cybertronians, though—always having the bond and remaining close. The thought honestly made her envy her metal companions; surely their creators would never be uncaring to them unless they were altered or damaged.

She shook the thoughts away, “Okay, so I got that. Are Spark Mates any different, and are Chromia and Ironhide that and wanting to make a spark or whatever?”

“Spark Mates are a much closer bond than the creator-creations—almost as close as siblings from the same spark. And no, Chromia and Ironhide are not that. Not yet, anyways. But before we speak of that, allow me to illustrate more on Spark Mates if only to complete the lesson,” the purple femme smiled, casting a quick glance at her turquoise-armored sister, whom still danced with the towering, black mech, their optics lit with compassion and laughter fluttering off their tongues.

“Spark Mates, as I’ve said, occur when two sparks are so close in signature that they can combine. This, again as I’ve said before, is _extremely_ rare, and it is a very special bond. When the two combine sparks, they pass on a piece of their signature—a piece of _themselves_ , and leave a ‘mark’ of sorts, on their mates. The mark acts as a sign of being ‘taken’, or I believe that’s the word you might use, and will ward off any other spark signatures that are close, but not quite right.”

Catherine tilted her head, “So, wait—can there be more than one Spark Mate at a time?”

“Looks like Elita’s losing her touch at explaining if she forgot to mention that,” Arcee teased from behind, and was quickly pushed back by her sister. The pink femme merely laughed as Springer helped steady her, though her sister was not nearly as amused. She hid it well, however.

“No, Catherine. A Spark Mate has only one partner—only one spark that can combine so perfectly. Others can be close, but should they try to merge, they will reject one another. Rejection is painful, and so the mark is a way to protect the sparks from pain. Granted, some of the more ‘protective’ ones use it as a means of warding off nosy Cybertronians,” the femme chuckled. “Once the sparks are combined, they form the Spark Bond, which, like those between brother and sister, allow the two Spark Mates to understand their partner’s signature so well, they can sense their emotions and essentially what they are thinking, and even use it to locate one another.”

“Oh, wow… That… That sound… nice. Really nice,” the redhead smiled, her mind already imagining what it would be like.

“Yeah, until something happens to one of them” Springer spoke up, and both femmes sent him a reprimanding glare. He threw up his arms in defense, noting the redhead would have to learn about it at some point anyways. The redhead in question looked between the three in confusion, and Elita-1 sighed as she answered.

“When one of the partners in a Spark Mate bond dies… the other is essentially left without a part of themselves. This applies for siblings as well, although siblings are generally worse off as they came from the same spark. Creation-Creators feel a much lesser form, but regardless, the loss of a partner or siblings or creator forms a feeling of emptiness. There have even been cases of sparks being altered by the loss and leading to malfunctions in a Cybertronian, but those were fairly rare. For the most part, the Cybertronian feels only half there, although they generally wouldn’t let on even if it really began to affect them. Because of the war and increasing deaths, many potential Spark Mate bonds didn’t happen even if they were possible due to the consequences on the death.”

“Is that why Chromia and Ironhide haven’t bonded?”

Both Elita-1 and Arcee looked over at their sister, watching the two going on as if their energy was endless. It may as well have been with the way their sparks surged around one another, reaching out in ways that only Cybertronian eyes could see, or, had Catherine activated them, the Allspark’s powers could sense. Of course, even without her powers of Cybertronian senses, it was obvious in the way they looked at one another and pushed each other to reach their greatest heights; to burst through any limit.

“Yes. Both are the strongest mech and femme you’d ever find, but they’re so protective that they won’t bond to keep one another from harm. We can both feel hers reaching out to him—it’s _that_ strong and yet…” the purple femme sighed with a shake of her head and looked back to the redhead with a soft, but weary smile. “But do not worry yourself with such things. With the way things are now—with the sense of peace here—they are bound to submit to their desires soon enough.”

“Also, don’t tell them we told you anything,” Springer added quietly, leaning close with his hand covering one side of his mouth. “He’d kill me for just being a part of this, and Chromia would be even worse!”

“And then she would deny everything,” Arcee laughed, and even Elita-1 joined in. Catherine chuckled a bit herself, but then found her attention focused upon the turquoise femme and the black mech.

They had finished their duel, their intakes blowing out the hot air their inner workings had built up. If they had been human, sweat would have been pouring down their bodies, but their metal armor was dry with only the scratches and dent to show for their work. Their optics remained locked on another as they stood close enough so that even the slightest movement would have them pressed together. She reached out with her powers this time, and she almost lost herself for a moment; so strong was that feeling between them. Though they were not human, she knew, without a doubt, it was love. Pure, unconditional love.

There was such tenderness, too, as they reached out with their sparks, but then—a pause; a hesitant thought; a flash of sadness quickly buried beneath a weak smile. The two pulled away, and, though the love remained, they let it go no further and returned it to the place it had come from. They were two separate beings once more, and Catherine was herself, standing beside the two femmes and mech. They remained where they were, though, their optics dimmed as they spoke to one another privately, but the beauty that had enfolded them before was lessened.

Elita-1 sighed softly, but Catherine was close enough to hear and looked up to find the femme looking at the two longingly—as if wishing to be in their place. The redhead recalled some of her sighting of the femme with a certain mech, and curiosity quickly took hold, unable to be denied.

“Say, Elita…” she began, catching the purple femme’s attention. “What about… you and Optimus?”

She blinked, taken back for a moment, “Me… and Optimus?”

“Yeah. I’ve, uh, seen you two together more than a few times and, well, you kind look, uh, like those two over there sometimes.”

Catherine regretted asking when the sad smile appeared on the femme’s face, and her optics dimmed as her shoulder slumped a little.

“It is a nice though, but… Optimus and I… Let’s just say there is too much between us to move forward.”

Catherine frowned, not quite sure what she meant, but she had no time to press further—although she had begun to think she shouldn’t—as Ironhide and Chromia strolled over, their faces bright and smiling despite their earlier moment.

“You’re welcome to train now,” the black mech spoke, and grinned wryly down at the redhead. “And you’re welcome to stay, but it definitely won’t be as exciting.”

“What was that you old cogger?” Springer barked, grinning with challenge as he stepped forward.

Ironhide smirked back, “This ‘old cogger’ could wipe the floor with you any day, Youngling.”

“Now, now, Ironhide; no need to rub it in his face,” Chromia giggled, and the green-armored mech huffed as he pressed past them.

“C’mon, Arcee!” he growled. “Let’s show them how real Cybertronians fight!”

The pink-armored femme laughed, “Sure thing! Just don’t complain when I whoop you!”

“And they’re off,” Elita-1 smiled, and then looked to her sister and Ironhide. “You two should go get yourselves some Energon and cool down before your sparks give out.”

The two agreed and, bidding them good-bye, made their way out into the hall, leaving Catherine and the purple femme alone as they watched Springer and Arcee duke it out. Unlike the two before, the warriors did not fight as if in a dance. Rather, it was a friendly fight against two comrades. There was no deep passion, and Catherine didn’t need to ask to know they were nowhere near being Spark Mates, though their sparks no doubt liked each other.

And as she thought of the bonds and how the sparks made the mechs, femmes, and quadrupeds who they were, she began to wonder if that meant Decepticons were born as Decepticons. Was Megatron born a ruthless killer or had he been damaged and altered in some way that had made him into that feral beast she and Sam had brought down in Mission City? She knew the answer the more she thought—Optimus had spoken to her once of how he had been a valiant, courageous warrior who sought only to protect their home from those who would wish to destroy it. However, he had changed somehow, someway. Was it because he was like Optimus who had the potential to be leader, only he had become a destroyer? And what of the others? Were Cybertronians born _evil_?

_But who am I to call them ‘evil’?_ She thought somberly. Of course they seemed evil to her—they had tried to kill her loved ones and her world. Any story had a similar following; the bad guys were always those who sought to harm the protagonist or the world, but did that make them _evil_? What were their reasons for the path of chaos and destruction and callousness? Was it as black and white as the Autobots and her own self perceived? Did they only seek power and rule over all? Or was there more? What had been Megatron’s reasons for forming his faction?

The more she thought the more frustrated and annoyed she became. She should have just left it black and white rather than allow herself to become drowned with gray areas, but she couldn’t help it. There were always two sides to a situation, and, although sometimes it _was_ black-and-white, in some cases there were good reasons for the actions of those society deemed malcontents. Were the Decepticons the same? She secretly hoped not. And yet... not all the ‘Cons were programmed only for blood lust.

As if she were speaking of the devil, the proof of her thought appeared alongside Gears, who was none-too-happy to be doing so. Barricade, as always, took it with boredom, and she often wondered if he felt anything but that and snarky sarcasm.

“Slaggit it all, Elita!” the blue-armored Autobot sighed with exasperation. “I asked you _not_ to let Springer fight! You and he both know it was his turn to take the prisoner!”

“Ah, so I’m a prisoner now? I suppose that is an improvement over ‘slagging ‘Con’,” the ex-Decepticon snorted, his optics glancing around the room, not even pausing when they fell onto the redhead.

“Sorry, Gears. It’s Ironhide’s fault—he goaded him into it. Don’t worry, their bouts never last long. And, if you’d like, I’ll watch him until their done, so you can go play with Knock Out.”

The Autobot rolled his optics, “Look, I told you—he hangs out with me. Not the other way around.”

“Of course.”

“….And I will take you up on that offer. My optics ache from just looking at this guy! I’ll see ya later. Oh, and hi and bye, Catherine!” he replied, waving down at the human as he quickly turned and shuffled out. Femme and female looked up at Barricade, whom grunted in return and stayed where he was, forcing Elita-1 to come closer to him.

“It’s repulsive how low you lot have fallen for these humans,” he growled after a moment, but the femme did not reply nor look at him. “You grovel for their affection even if it’s for nothing. _Disgusting_.”

“It’s called friendship, ‘Cade, and I see you haven’t been working on that attitude problem,” Catherine sighed with a shake of her head and turned to meet his gaze. She raised a brow, enticing him onward, and he took the bait.

“Only the weak profess things such as ‘friendship’.”

“So you really haven’t been working on it. Anyways, you call it weak, but it’s Autobots with all that friendship you hate that are winning, so where’s your logic now?”

“Our demise lay with our leader’s failures, not a lack of companionship and trust.”

“Oh, no need to deny it, ‘Cade. You just wish you had as much trust from these guys as I do,” she grinned; ignoring the weary glance Elita-1 cast her. The purple-armored Femme and Chromia both knew she was the Allspark—Arcee was a bit too talkative— but even if they didn’t, it was still dangerous, bordering on foolish, to play games with Barricade. Catherine was feeling daring, though.

“You trust them too easily; you believe you are so safe around them,” he began, but was cut off when the femme turned and glared, her engine revving slightly in warning.

“Watch your vocalizer,” she growled.

“No, let him speak,” Catherine spoke up, stepping closer and surprising both femme and ex-‘Con, though he hid it well. “He has the right to, so let him.”

He regarded her for a moment before his sneer returned, “You have gathered such faith in them, but they will betray you at some point. Trust is but an illusion among individuals, and when one sees an opportunity to improve themselves they will break it and leave the rest to suffer. Individuals will only think for themselves—no amount of trust or friendship will stop that. You think yours will be any different? You think this trust you speak of isn’t superficial?”

“No. I don’t think. I know,” she replied at once, her expression steadfast. The ex-‘Con became silent as she went on, her gaze never leaving his, “You are right about one thing—I trust the Autobots easily. _Too_ easily, maybe, but it’s because I can do so without worry of being betrayed. And you know what? Maybe you are right. Maybe I will be abandoned and my trust broken, but I don’t believe that. I trust them and they trust me, and that bond won’t be broken.”

Barricade was silent for a while, his red optics staring down at her, while her hazel eyes stared back up. In those minutes she had first met him she had found him terrifying, but here, in a time that made those minutes like a long lost dream, he seemed so normal. He did not look like the ‘Con that had meant to kill her. He was another mech—another wayward Cybertronian trying to survive and find a place in this new world. Yes, he was still a spiteful creature, and neither his frame nor demeanor were inviting, but he was different. He was not some soulless monster.

“Your faith is disturbing,” he mused, and she chuckled a little.

“Well, you’re welcome to think what you want. Anyways, have fun touring with Springer. I’m heading off for some grub,” she hummed as she strolled by, but then suddenly spun around to walk backward and point her index finger with her thumb sticking up at him as she smiled. “Kudos for improving on those interacting-with-human skills by the way. Keep up the good work.”

She didn’t bother to see his reaction as she spun back around, giggling to herself as she hurried out. Sure, he wasn’t an evil monster, but he was still a turd, and she liked to mess with turds.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve got some bad news, and I’ve got some good news.”

Catherine looked up from her plate of food to find Lennox staring down at her, one hand on his hip, and his expression not looking at all like the bearer of good news. She mentally sighed and set down her fork to press her elbow on the table, set her chin in her palm, and slouch over. Boredom crossed over her features and she sighed again, this time aloud.

“Okay, I’m ready. Give me the bad news first.”

He sat down in the space beside her, “Bad news? Galloway is going to visit to begin the process to replace Marissa. It’s only for the day, and after that he won’t be here unless the President sends him, so it shouldn’t be very much. You’re going to have to meet with him, of course, but Marissa, the General, Optimus, Jazz, and I will be there.”

“Hey, Lennox, mind taking your gun and putting it right here,” she replied, using her free hand to aim at the soft spot on the side of her head, “and blowing my brains out? ‘Cause, you know, that’d be such a huge favor for me.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” he chuckled. “But the good news is—“

“I thought him being here for a day and you all being with me was the good news. ‘Cause that was just _fantastic_ to hear by the way,” she interrupted and he smiled a little.

“No, it’s even better. For one, our bad egg—a.k.a. Brent Williams—is going to be sent over to one of the foreign NEST bases that are pro-Autobot where he will not be any more trouble.”

She purred, “Go on.”

“Second is that you and I will be able to go on our four week break in April.”

“Oh my God—keep talking. Just—just _keep talking_!” she squealed, perking up at once.

He laughed, “I knew that would get you excited. Unfortunately, that’s about it right now.”

“Oh God, you have just made me so happy. Best. Dad. Ever.”

“Ugh, I feel so old when you call me that.”

She perked a brow, “Huh. Usually you complain about ‘favoritism’ when I call you that in public.”

“Fuck it this time,” he replied, waving it off, and clapped her on the back. “Anyways, hopefully that’s brightened your day, because Galloway is coming in two weeks.”

“I take it back. You’re the worst,” she groaned, dropping her head onto the table. Lennox laughed again as he wrapped his arm around to give her a comforting hug. She made a pathetic whine as she shoved him away, telling him to leave her alone to die. He stood up then, tapping her shoulder to gain her attention. She looked up unhappily as he gestured for her to follow. She glanced down at her food, which was essentially done, so she picked it up, turned it into the dish area, and hurried after her Commander. The halls were fairly empty with it being lunch hour and the next duty shift not for a while, so they walked relatively undisturbed. It made it easier for them to relax and drop their normal formal façade.

“So,” he began with a mischievous smile. “Rumor has it you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with certain Autobots, or so the team says.”

She groaned, smacking her hand to her forehead, “ _Please_ tell me you haven’t been listening to those jerks!”

“Well, as your father, it’s my responsibility to make sure I have a gun aimed at all potential suitors,” he teased, and she gave him a look.

“Annabelle will hate you for that, and Sideswipe is _not_ a ‘potential suitor’!” she replied, using “air quotes” for emphasis.

“I like how you specified who it was. So, Sideswipe is it? Not a bad choice, although I didn't peg you for the trouble-maker types,” he purred, and she let out an exasperated cry. “Oh, calm down, ‘Cat—“

“Oh dear God! The nickname, too?!”

“What, you don’t like it? But ‘Catherine’ is such a mouth full…”

She threw her hands up, “Okay! Fine! Fine! You and everyone and their dog can call me ‘Cat! But why the hell is everyone teasing me about me and Sideswipe? It’s weird and—and just _weird_!”

Lennox laughed as she huffed and folded her arms across her chest, and he rubbed her head with affection until she smacked it away.

“We’re just having a little fun, and you have to admit—you spend a _lot_ of time with him now a-days. Some of the guys are getting a little jealous. I imagine the Twins are, too.”

“Ugh. The Twins. They’re just… They’re dumb. And the guys are so full of it and going to find my boot up their ass if they don’t stop with the teasing! It’s getting a little too serious! I mean, _really_? A human and a Cybertronian? There are so many reasons why that wouldn’t work!”

“So you’ve actually thought about it?”

“And laughed my ass off, thank-you very much! And what is with you and teasing me today? Is it let’s-tease-Catherine day and I missed the memo?” she frowned, and he raised his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright! I’ll stop, and I’ll see if I can’t get the boys to lay off.”

“Thanks, but I’d have to get a human boyfriend to make them stop,” she sighed, shaking her head.

He paused to nod at a few saluting soldiers, “Well, why don’t you? Relationships are allowed, although with limits—not that Anthony follows them— and you are seventeen now…”

She shrugged, “I guess I just haven’t been able to really connect with anyone. They’re all more like brothers or cousins to me, and then it’s like I’ve told Michael—they still kind of think I’m weird with how much I hang with the Autobots even though I hang out with you guys a lot, too!”

“I just think you’re not trying hard enough,” he smiled, nudging her, and she nudged back. “What about that Michael kid? I don’t know him all that well, but you’ve mentioned him a few times.”

“Michael?” she hummed, pondering. “Well… to be honest… No, not really. It just doesn’t click, y’know? He’s cute, but it’s more like little brother cute. And he’s sweet and trying to not be weirded out, but it’s not gonna happen. He’s automatic friend-zone pretty much.”

“You’re _way_ too picky, kiddo,” he chuckled as they turned the hall, the space between wings just down the hall. “You’re going to be alone forever if you keep that up.”

“Please—I have such a wonderful father, a dozen uncles and brothers, thousands of cousins, and a Cybertronian family. I’m never alone!” she boasted, chin held high.

He smiled and rubbed her head again, “Then let’s keep it that way.”

She swatted his hand away again, though this time with a light grin as the two passed out into the channel. Not many people were there either, but there were a few Autobots—Blazemaster and Swerve, she recognized—and it was nice to see the humans around them waved or even trotted beside the two mechs to have a small conversation. Commander and liaison exchanged cheerful looks, the Autobot integration going well. Of course, they knew there was bound to be another “Brent Williams” at some point, but so far things were looking good.

“Well, well, looks like your entourage is here,” Lennox suddenly spoke and pointed at the white-armored mech gazing at them from behind his blue visor. Catherine’s face lit up at once and she smiled brightly at Jazz, whom waved. The redhead turned to the brown-haired man, and he chuckled as he ushered her off, reminding her not to be late for training tomorrow. She promised and jogged over to her protector’s waiting hand, which quickly lifted her up and set her onto his shoulder. He then turned and headed back into the wing, going wherever his feet felt like going since she didn’t have any destination in mind.

“I can’t believe you’re actually off duty for once!” she grinned, tapping at the side of his helmet.

Jazz grinned, “Ratchet’s startin’ ta get onta my aft ‘bout not takin enough time off, too, so here I am, shorty. What’s gonna be the agenda for today?”

“I dunno to be honest. I just got done talking with Lennox—they’re teasing me about Sideswipe and don’t you dare start!” she replied, jabbing a finger at him when he turned his head towards her slightly, mouth open and ready to crack a tease. “Anyways, I had lunch before that, walked around, had a little word face off with Barricade, which I so won, and watched Chromia and Ironhide do the tango of death.”

“The Tango ‘o death?” he inquired, a laugh hidden in his smile.

“Yes. And it was beautiful. Oh, and I got a spark lesson. Learned all about you guys’ Spark Bonds. I’m kinda jealous you have all that. It seems like it’s something wonderful.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know myself, since I don’t have siblings ‘o a Spark Mate, but accordin’ ta records, it is.”

“You know, now that I think about it,” she said after a pause, lifting her palm up to stare at the glow that appeared with a quick activation of her powers, “my Allspark powers are kind of like that. I can feel all your emotions. I can’t interpret them as well as the Twins or the Triplets do for each other, but I can tell your moods. But only when I activate it, so it’s not like a real Spark Bond.”

“Well, the Allspark was ta main source ‘o our sparks, so it’d be reasonable for ya ta feel a connection ta us when ya power yaself up.”

“I wonder if I could make a Spark Bond then… I mean—it’s silly, being an organic, but I do have Energon blood, so… Well, I dunno. I guess I’d have to ask Ratchet or something. But—uh, just forget about it,” she laughed, rubbing the back of her head. “Silly thought.”

“Naw, Spark Bondin’ ain’t a silly thing. You should ask Ratchet; maybe ya could. Granted, the Allspark never had any bonds with any ‘o us, or we never felt it. Well, except for Megatron, I think. Had some rumors ‘o him havin’ some kind ‘o connection ta it, but I nevah believed ‘em.”

Catherine hummed thoughtfully, returning her hand to her side, and pondered on the idea. She found she couldn’t agree with him—at least, not on the idea that the Allspark wasn’t bonded to the Cybertronians. The main reason was her dreams. She hadn’t had any for a long time—no doubt because she hadn’t fueled her power source in about the same amount of time—but she always had them after she’d used her powers a large amount. If the Allspark hadn’t been bonded to its creations, then why would she have the dreams? Furthermore, she could feel a connection to her creations. She couldn’t explain it, and it wasn’t always strong, but she felt _something_ when near them or if they wanted to be near her badly. It was like someone tugging at the back of her mind. So… didn’t she technically already have a Spark Bond?

_I definitely need to ask Ratchet later_ , she mused as she searched out for the feeling and found it almost right away. There wasn’t much of a tug, but she had the sudden notion that her creations had felt her, too. It was… strange, yet comforting.

“Come back ta me, shorty. I’m losin’ ya,” Jazz’s voice rang through her stupor and broke it. She blinked, and then grinned, apologizing. “S’all good. Anythin’ ya want me help ya with on those thoughts ‘o yours?”

She paused to think, “Well… I dunno. I’ll probably ask Ratchet later. He’s been pretty busy so I don’t want to bother him with it. But…. Oh, well, I guess there is one thing. I was thinking about it earlier when Elita-1 told me about sparks.”

“Shoot.”

“Well… She said sparks make who you guys are, and, well, it made me wonder—are you guys born Decepticons and Autobots? Like, was Megatron created to be their leader, and are mechs and femmes and whatnot created to be killers? Or do you guys change over time and it’s a choice?”

Jazz stopped in the middle of the hall to turn and look at her, a frown on his face as he attempted to think of the right words to say. She waited quietly, wondering if there even was a proper explanation for it. She supposed he of all mechs would know. He always seemed to know something no one else did about her and the Allspark and sparks, but he wouldn’t or couldn’t say. Maybe this time he could, though—just this once.

“It’s hard fo' me ta say, and normally I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya since ya supposed ta be learnin’ on ya own, but ya got enough to where I think it should be okay,” he finally said, and she perked up curiously. “What Elita-1 said ain’t wrong, but there’s more ta sparks than ya or anyone else thinks. And, naw, Cybertronians ain’t born killers or heroes—they’re made, just like ya humans are. It’s hard ta explain without tellin’ ya everythin’.”

She frowned, “I think I kind of get it… but why can’t you say everything? Will something bad happen if you do or is it something else or—“

She meant to continue, but Jazz held up his hand to silence her. She did so, and he sighed as he looked away for a moment, his optics dimming as if he were going elsewhere. It was only for a few seconds, and then his visor was bright blue once more and facing her.

“Nothin’ bad or anythin’ is gonna happen if I tell ya, but ya need to find out fo' yourself. Things won’t go… right if ya don’t. Or somethin’ like that. My job is just ta protect ya, and ya can trust that I’m gonna do just that. I’m sorry I can’t tell ya nothin’ important, but it’s how it’s gotta be.”

She watched him for what felt an eternity, “Alright. I understand. I hate it. But I understand. A lot better now, actually. You’re doing a badass job of being a big brother guardian, by the way.”

“Good ta here it. Now, how ‘bout we play some video games?” he grinned, visor shimmering as his version of a wink. She perked up at once.

“You guys have that?!”

“Yeah. Newly installed by yours truly.”

“Then what the hell are you waiting for? Go, go, go, go!”

Jazz laughed and then they were off, the redhead’s concerns for her white knight pushed away.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _Aaaaaaaaaaaand that's it! For that chapter! :3 Hope you all enjoyed the spark lesson and everything else~! I mean, you got the lesson, some Ironhide x Chromia (which I fully support, by the way~), some incite into OP x Elita, more Barricade banter, some Lennox, and some Jazz! It's a full meal! :D_

_So now for story points. First off, the Spark Bonds! As Elita-1 stated, there are three types (for clarifying):_

  1. _Spark Mate Bond -_ _The bond between "Spark Mates". Spark "signatures" (Energon) are exchanged when compatible sparks are combined temporarily (pressed together). From there, the Spark Mates are able to "sense" their Mates emotions/intentions/etc. and so can, in a way, read their thoughts. It's a very close, emotional bond, and CAN lead to sparklings due to the energy Spark Bonding gives off, but it requires special equipment and a time without warfare. Loss of Spark Mate is essentially losing part of themselves, but is NOT lethal. Depression will generally follow or small changes in personality/routine. Sometimes death comes from the changes, but Mates can live on. There is only ONE mate per Cybertronian, as the chances of multiple sparks being "compatible" is basically non-existent._
  2. _Creator-Creation Bond -_ _The bond between "Spark Mates" and their Creations. Sparks from spark bonding can be sent into a specialized spark box meant to house these kinds of sparks and keep the Energon together until it can stabilize. Afterwhich, the spark will be placed into an Energon sac and will then react with the Energon to begin forming the exoskeleton of the Cybertronian and continue to grow within the sac as a hatchling until it is large enough to survive outside and becomes a "youngling". From there they continue to learn and grow, setting their personality, and upgrading every so often until they're fully formed. Spark Bond-created Cybertronians have a spark that is essentially a perfect mixture of the two Creators sparks, and, as such, can "sense" their creators and vice verse, because the Signatures are recognized by the Cybertronian Creator's systems instictually (since they are originally from the creators). The "bond" keeps the Creators and Creation very close. The loss of a Creator/Creation is not as damaging as a Spark Mate or Sibling, so there is no depression/changes caused by it._
  3. _Sibling Bond -_ _Caused when a created spark destabilizes and splits, but then stabilizes again. Sideswipe/Sunny and Skids/Mudflap are obvious examples. The Triplets (Arcee/Chromia/Elita-1) are a special case in which they were experimented on and split, but the characteristics are the same. A sibling bond is the strongest, or, "closest" of the three, as the sparks of the siblings are nearly the EXACT same. There are differences here and there, but they are essentially copies of each other, thus Siblings have an incredibly heightened sensing abilities of their siblings emotions/actions, and, as such, are sometimes thought to truly read each others thoughts (aside from comm. link). When a Sibling dies, the other will generally follow as they feel more incomplete than even a Spark Mate, and because Siblings will rely on each other's spark presence for stability. (i.e. Sideswipe going crazy due to Sunny's absence). Thus, most will die if their sibling does, but some are able to move on, but are severely changed and generally completely anti-social or always depressed or become very sedentary. Siblings are incredibly rare, however, although they can be artificially made as in the case of the Triplets._



_And that's about the gist of the types. Some other info: Spark Mates can be made with ANYONE, so long as the sparks are compatible. However, the chances of compatibility are like the possibility of having multiple mates- it's basically non-existent. BEFORE the war, it was actually not so rare, but with so many deaths the chances decreased, and then with the war, it is not safe for spark mates due to the consequences of losing a Spark Mate. Also, Cybertronians have NO GENDERS so gender has nothing to do with Spark Mates. Also, as Jazz said, there is MORE to sparks than what everyone thinks, which also means that there's more to each Cybertronian's personality than everyone thinks ;)_

_And um... I guess that's it for sparks._

_And I'd say that's all for now! My A/N has gotten long enough, ha ha~ xD_


	32. Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay - Trouble

\-------------------------------------------------------------

"Unlike us, your bodies are small and made of flesh—easily broken and unable to withstand point blank shots. If you want to take down a Decepticon, you have to do it hard and you have to do it fast, so you'll need to strike in their vulnerable areas," Ironhide spoke loudly to the large crowd of soldiers that had gathered around him, Brawn, and Springer. He paused to point at the Minibot's neck. "The best point is here; we have weaker armor, more sensitive wiring, and a main Energon line that runs along the side. If you break that, they'll lose fluid quick. If you can't hit this area then aim in between the armor at the arms and knees or, if possible, underneath the chassis."

Brawn's face was grumpy as usual while Ironhide held up his arm and tapped his belly for the Minibot to lift his chest up, and Catherine couldn't help but smile a little as she watched. The short Autobot was a mech of action, and thus hated being a "dummy" for his friend's lessons—a fact Ironhide was well aware of and _loved_ to exploit. Springer knew it, too, but did a profound job of _not_ smiling while Brawn grumbled softly. None of the other soldiers seemed to notice, their focus on learning where to hit the enemy. She already knew where thanks to her own talks with the battle-savvy mechs around the base, so she preferred to watch the silent and unseen actions between their teachers.

"You don't need to worry about your shots not being effective—the magnesium rounds are capable of burning through our armor, and so will easily break through the unprotected areas I showed you. All you humans need to worry about is keeping out of their line of fire and their melee range as well—one swing and you'll find yourself with something broken. And that's exactly what we're going to be working on today."

A soft murmur went through the group, heads turning to look at one another either excitedly or worriedly. The training up until now had mostly been on teamwork; learning formations and commands; how to move around one another; bonding; all the good stuff. This, however, was not that. Catherine already knew what was going on, having been told by Optimus and an unfortunately giddy Sideswipe, and so was not surprised as Ironhide began to explain.

The humans would be split up into five groups made of two teams each, which came out to about twelve soldiers per group. From there, they would be using the paintball guns they'd been provided to attempt to hit the five targets that had either volunteered or been picked. The goal was to strike the weak spots as many times as possible, but the targets wouldn't be standing still. All five Autobots would be moving at high speeds and they wouldn't just be running—they'd be on the attack, too. Of course, they couldn't _actually_ hurt anyone, but if a soldier was caught by an uncharged gun or blade, they were "dead' and it was game over.

_Essentially what I did, but in a smaller area, with more people, and more guns_ , the redhead mused as the black mech finished up his explanation. There was one other difference—there wasn't a time limit. It would only end when all the soldiers were dead or the targets had five hits to weak spots, or twenty to the main armor. Ironhide, Brawn, and Springer would be the judges so no one could cheat.

"Sound familiar?" Lennox whispered with a grin, and she smirked back.

"I was just thinking the same thing. I'm just glad I'm not going it alone this time," she chuckled before suddenly frowning. "Please tell me we didn't get Sideswipe."

He raised a brow, "He out to get you?"

"I, uh, made a bet with him. If, I, uh, have him as an opponent, that is."

"What did you bet?"

"If I lose, I have to help him pull a prank on anyone—Autobot anyone—and if we get caught, I have to take the blame," she grimaced, though Lennox snorted as he attempted to hide his laugh. "But if I win—as in, he gets taken down and I'm alive—then he has to tote me everywhere when I'm on the Autobot side, regardless if he has something to do, and he can't wash off the paint for a week."

"Well, I guess you'll find out," he grinned, patting her on the back as they began to separate into their groups, her team joining up with one that was under Bluestreak's command. They were a group of six—four men and two women. Like most of the young mech's groups, they were long range-types, and for that she was glad. It would suit well for their front-liner expertise; Bluestreak's team could stay back, while hers kept the target's attention and then fire when the target was distracted by the long range. That is, if things went well, anyways, and reality tended to not be so perfect. Still, it would be worth a shot, and lucky for them, Lennox was much better at the planning than she was. Already he was formulating a strategy with the others, giving out a quick path of action to follow.

"Try and keep a buddy with you, but if you become a target, split and make it harder for the Autobots. We're going to be using the simulation training room we used before we integrated with the Autobots, so expect explosions, too. "

"Got it. And, if that's the case, some of us snipers can head up to the higher levels to scout if ya need us to," one of the soldiers, a short, dark-brown-haired man grinned, and Lennox nodded in agreement.

"That's good. Just make sure you can bail if they see you. The 'buildings' in the room aren't tall enough to put you out of reach. So whoever are the snipers, you know what to do."

"Roger!" five soldiers, including the one that spoke up, saluted.

"Man, sometimes I wish I'd learned how to use the damned sniper rifles," Epps sighed, shaking his head. "I _hate_ being a ground-pounder."

David clapped him on the shoulder, "Aw, it ain't so bad. Thing is, if you win, you can say you were in the heat and be a hot shot. And if we lose, well, you'll probably die nice and swift so you feel nothing."

"Thanks for the pep talk, David," Jackson replied, rolling his eyes. "How about we just stick with not dying and take out whoever we got as a target. I mean, we got all the guys who took out 'Cons in Mission City with us, so I'd say we have pretty good chances."

"Not to mention we've been working pretty damn hard, so it shouldn't be too bad," Anthony added, nodding, and some of the others did, too.

"Lennox," Ironhide's voice called out, and they turned to find the mech strolling towards them. "Your team will be up first. Your target is already in the room, so once you are equipped and ready, you may begin.

"Who's the target, big guy?" Fig inquired, but the black mech merely grinned.

"In order to keep a degree of realism, we've decided to withhold the names of the target. You'll know soon enough, though."

Groans and sighs came up from the group, but were quickly quieted by their Commander who ordered them to get moving. Ironhide wished them luck as he turned to the other groups. Catherine, meanwhile, pondered over who it was. She already knew Sideswipe and Smokescreen would be in it—she had heard the tactician's name right before the silver mech had been told to "shut-it" by Ratchet in the Medbay. She had a few guesses, though. The Triplets would all make for good targets, as would Knock Out or Swerve. She briefly considered the Twins—no soldier would pass up the chance to hit them with paintball shots, and they would be _pummeled_ if they were in it. Unfortunately, the two wouldn't be able to take it seriously enough to take out any humans, and would be so distracted fighting each other that the match would be over in thirty seconds. They didn't make good practice material.

"So, any ideas on who it is, Ms. Autobot?" one of the men from Bluestreak's team inquired, and though his tone was humorous she raised a brow. He quickly raised his hands up in defense, his grin widening. "I kid! Or, well, mean no insult by it! I, personally, think it's cool you're their liaison. Bluestreak's a great guy!"

She reined herself in, smiling a little, "Well, I'm glad to hear that, and all I know is that Sideswipe and Smokescreen will be targets. Not sure about the other three, but they'll probably be those that are fast and battle-savvy."

"Well, I guess that means Dumb and Dumber are out," another soldier—this one a tall, Amazonian-like woman, smirked, and the others laughed. The name suited the Twins, obviously, and had thus become the favored nickname for them. Catherine agreed whole heartedly, as did most of the other Autobots once they found out where the names came from.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to take on Jazz," Alexander spoke up, and murmurs of agreement went through the group. "I've never seen him fight, but apparently only a few of the Autobots can beat him."

_That's because Jazz is a B.A.M.F._ , Catherine smiled to herself, proud of her giant, mechanical brother.

"I wouldn't mind taking on our guy, Bluestreak" the dark-brown haired man from the long-winded Autobot's group spoke up. "Granted, he's a sniper, so it'd probably be a little uneventful… Well, then again, he probably knows close-combat, but he's never worked on it with us."

"You should know, right, Autobot-lady?" the man from before—a dusty-blonde she noticed now that she really got a look at him. He was grinning as always, and this time she laughed.

"'Autobot-lady'? Sounds like a super-hero name," she grinned back. "And he does have a record of fighting close combat, but not much. He can do if it he has to, but he prefers to snipe."

"Which is why he's perfect for our group!" the second woman—a brunette—boasted, holding her chin high.

"A _little_ too talkative, though," the short, black man of the group added, using a hand gesture to show how little. "We lose practice time because of that. Sometimes I wonder how he keeps coming up with things to talk about."

"Man, you show that guy a key and you end up finishing the conversation about the migrations of birds or something!" the dark-tanned member of their team exclaimed, shaking his head with a laugh.

"I wish Ironhide was more like that!" David groaned. "All he ever does is ground out order after order and make us work! He doesn't even laugh!"

"Except around Catherine. 'Autobot-lady' gets all the special treatment," Epps snickered, nudging Catherine who punched him back lightly.

"Well, I _am_ their _liaison_. I better be getting some benefits," she smirked. " _Maaaaybe_ if you guys suck up a little I'll pass on a few _suggestions_ to Ironhide to be nice."

Lennox spoke up quickly, effectively cutting off everyone else, "Aaaaaaand I don't think so. You guys can just suck it up and take it like men."

Boos and hisses roared from Catherine's team and some even pushed and shoved at their Commander while Bluestreak's team just laughed as they watched. Luckily for Lennox, the entrance to the training room was just around the corner and so he had perfectly good reason to bark orders for them to get their asses into the room and put on their equipment before he made them run out there butt naked. Seeing as none of them wanted that—not that it would really happen—they quit their antics and hurried into the room.

The equipment was about the same as usual; protective gear for knees, elbow, chest, and so on. Their helmets were slightly modified with a bit of engineering love, and had been given better microphones for good team communication. They were also given a special black device on the side to test the newest modification—Energon detectors. It was still in its infant stage, but if the things worked, then NEST would have a way for soldiers to see the hidden enemy long before they transformed and tried to kill them. It would do wonders, Catherine knew, although _she_ didn't need it.

Suiting up was quick and over with, and then they spared a few minutes to pick up extra paint ball ammo, conveniently made into the shape of bullets and put into nice magazines that fit oh-so-perfectly into their lovely rifle-like guns. The engineers really put out, and hopefully it would come in handy for whoever they fought.

As it turned out, they were going to have to wait a bit to find out.

They rushed into the area, spreading out quickly in their pairs—Catherine went with Epps and Alexander since they had an over-filled team—and headed to cover to try out their sensors. Unfortunately, the range wasn't all that great. At most, it nearly touched a fifth of the area, but, according to the technology, their target wasn't within that range. Catherine, however, was not going to be deterred, and focused on her abilities, spreading out her senses to check for any emotions—or Energon signature, she supposed was what it was really called—from the target.

_Bingo. Moving around at high speeds at three o'clock,_ she mused, her senses picking up on his or her eagerness. The target was definitely one of the younger ones then, or at least it felt like that. The older bots just had this different feel. It was impossible to explain, but it was _different_. Of course, that was excluding the fact that the older, more experienced mechs were more composed about their emotions, especially in battle.

_"Let's spread out. Snipers, take to the roofs. Everyone else, you know what to do. Don't stray too far, though_ ," Lennox's voice crackled over their helmet's radio. Epps, being the highest ranked in their group, gave his confirmation and gestured for her and Alexander to follow. Like the others, they took off at a fast jog, keeping their eyes on the Energon scanners for any movement. Catherine wanted to tell them she knew where the target was and that he or she was heading towards the group's general direction, but she didn't want anyone to get suspicious of her abilities. She didn't really think there was any way to pull off her somehow having psychic "Autobot-detection" powers.

_"Target sighted. Heading your way, Saachi. Take care of Aemilio,_ " the short, dark-haired man from Bluestreak's team spoke up, and the voice of the Amazonian-woman replied with confirmation, while 'Aemilio' griped.

_"Good job. Keep tracking him. Can you tell who it is?"_ Lennox asked. Epps motioned for her and Alexander to pause as they checked around a corner. She saw Jackson and the sole black man from the other team race by. They started down the street.

_"Not too good with names, but this one's silver and has wheels for feet. ETA eight seconds on you, Saachi. Take cover. I'll see if I can draw him off a little. Allison, you fire, too, and see if we can't confuse him."_

_"Roger that, Ricky-boy,"_ the feminine voice of the brunette replied, and by the sound of it, she was grinning, eager for the fight.

_"It's Sideswipe_ ," Catherine spoke up, silently cursing. _"He's tricky—he can do crazy moves some of the other can't and he's faster, so you guys better move and stay under cover. If he can't get you he'll give up and move onto someone else. Just be careful when we start winning. He's gets pissed and then he's annoying. Just like any boss from a video game."_

There was an amusing mixture of chuckles and agreement as she pressed up against a building wall to wait for Epps to scan ahead. There was also the swiftest tease mentioning her knowing the Autobots so well, but she ignored it, leaving the threat to kick someone's ass later in her head. Of course, it helped _so much_ that,just as she was about to say it, one of the Energon explosions went off. Following it was a lovely string of curses from Epps and a few others, and also some calls of status updates.

_"Damn, those engineers are brutal, man!"_ David cried out between coughs, apparently having been close to the explosion. _"Can't see a damn thing with this smoke!"_

There was no time to reply as gunshots went off to their right, and Catherine had feeling it was the Saachi woman and Aemilio who were fending off an even more excited Sideswipe. There was no time to worry, though, as more explosions went off a little too close for their liking. Epps wasted no time moving them out, leading them closer to Sideswipe's location. They weren't just going to run, after all. She and her boys were front-liners—they charged into the action with guns blazing. They did so with tactics in mind, of course, but that was assumed.

_"My team, engage Sideswipe. Rick; Allison; work on distracting him until we get there_ ," Lennox barked.

Epps picked up speed. As they rounded a corner the gunfire became louder, and the familiar laugh of the silver mech reached their ears. More explosions went off, managing to dust them with debris, but they kept moving and eventually made it to the corner of an intersection where the Amazonian-like woman rushed out from behind a building on the opposite side. Aemilio appeared a few seconds later, and right on his heels was Sideswipe, his blades drawn for a false swipe. His armor had a streak of red paint on his arm, but nothing else. Accompanying was a grin boasting his confidence. 

"Let's go," Epps breathed, raising his gun and charging out. Both she and Alexander followed, creating a few feet of space between each other and stopping at a good distance to fire. Saachi and Aemilio quickly caught on and rushed towards the cover fire, while Sideswipe swerved out of the way, although couldn't escape three shots—two to his torso and one to his leg. She couldn't be sure, but Catherine had a feeling the increase in his smirk as he locked his optics onto them was meant for her. He _really_ wanted to win that bet, apparently.

"Oh, what the hell—" the black man beside her breathed, and she couldn't have said it any better as Sideswipe swerved back and forth and then leaped over their fire, summersaulting clean over them. He landed as Epps shouted for everyone to spread out, and then lunged for Alexander who was closest. The man, despite his bulk, made a graceful diving roll out of the way of the blades, saving his skin, and leaped through one of the windows of the buildings. Sideswipe huffed, but then turned his optics toward the new incoming rain of paint balls from Lennox and Jackson's pairs and also the volleys of sniper-like bullets coming in. Two shot sported his shoulders now, and, seeing his chances of winning lessening with each red splatter, he spun around the corner. As it so happened, it was the same corner Catherine had sprinted around. She also happened to look back the same moment he turned down it.

"Oh fuck me," she sighed, shoulders slumping, as the mech laughed and raced after her. She started running straight at first, but then realized how dumb that was, and skirted towards one of the buildings. She used her gun to break the window—painting it a lovely shade of red—before jumping through, narrowly missing his hand grabbing for her.

"Slag! Thought I had you!" he grumbled as he crouched down to stare at her through the square-shaped hole.

"Suck it, asshole," she smirked, flipping him the bird, and she was glad her helmet had fallen off—it made it a lot harder for everyone else to hear her dirty mouth.

"I'm going to win that bet."

She flipped him again, this time with both fingers, "Again, suck it. Reach into the building, I dare you."

"Okay."

"Wha—shit!" she shouted, jumping back as he punched his hand through the window to accept her challenge. She thankfully managed to instinctively bring up her gun and fire, splattering his fingers with red, which forced him to pull back. Down the street, more paint ball bullets fired at him, creating a matching red spot on the other shoulder.

He grimaced, "Ugh—I'll just get you later. Got to get away from these guys and get those long range ones first."

"You do that," she sighed, and then he was gone, racing down the street. Catherine picked up her helmet, and was disappointed to find her radio and scanners were malfunctioning. She scowled, but put it back on anyways and hopped back out the window to join Lennox and Jackon's teams as they met up with her.

"You okay, kiddo?" the Asian soldier inquired, and she nodded.

"Radio and scanner's broke, though. Let Rick and Allison know Sideswipe's coming for them."

"Got it. Stick with us until you can find Alex and Epps," Lennox ordered. Again, she nodded, and moved with them towards their snipers' positions. A street over, more explosions went off, as did more shots. Sideswipe's excitement only grew.

_This is going to be a long practice_ , she sighed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

With a deep, miserable, and tired sigh, Catherine plopped down on the bench and leaned her head back against the space between her armor and gun rack and Anthony's. Sweat dribbled down her brow, mixing with the black dirt from debris and making her shirt even wetter and dirtier. Unfortunately, the feeling was not mutual among her comrades, whom had a much better time than she did by the laughs and grins on their faces. Of course, they weren't going to have to take the fall for a jerk if things went bad.

In short, they lost.

Sideswipe has managed to quickly take out the snipers despite their efforts; Rick and Allison weren't fast enough to escape the silver mech's blades, and they were pronounced "dead" not even five minutes after he had left Catherine be. They went back to the entrance, and everyone else became free game for the gleeful mech. One by one they fell—she had been about the third one to go—and it was Fig who had made the last stand. He'd managed to nearly hit a vital spot, but was thwarted by Sideswipe's large torso, and was subsequently caught. The mech had no worries about gloating, especially when Ironhide's voice rang over the room's intercom and announced his victory.

And now they were unequipped and talking about it—or rather, the others were. She was too busy worrying about what the hell her silver companion was going to put her through. Sometimes she really, really hated that mech. He was lovable a lot of the time, too, but those few, certain times when he was going to be like how she knew he would be for the bet he was almost insufferable.

"Aw, c'mon, 'Cat. No need to be sore about it," Anthony chuckled, batting her on the arm playfully.

She shot him a glare, "I have every right to be sore about it. Leave me be."

"Geez. Looks like someone's on their time of the month," Saachi chuckled, and the men in the room only felt a little awkward.

"No I'm not!" she growled back, which was true. She wasn't due for a while. Or, she was pretty sure she wasn't. And then she started thinking about it, and she started to frown. Truthfully, she didn't know when she was due, and not because it was acting up, but because she couldn't remember the last time it _had_ acted up.

"So you're PMSing?" Anthony teased, and she glared again, in part to hide her own concern. Granted, she'd had an incident like that before, but she had taken measures to fix it, and it had been years since then, so why? She already had an idea as to the answer, and it worried her. There was only one way to find out, though.

"No! _Ugh_. Lennox, please dismiss me so I can take my break and then slave over my paperwork, _please_ ," she grumbled, and the Commander did so with a chuckle. The Italian made sure to crack off one last tease about getting some personal hygiene on the break, and she flipped him the bird as she walked out.

It honestly shouldn't have bugged her so much. It was probably just because of all the stress, but her mind just couldn't stop thinking that maybe—just maybe—it was because of something else; something not biological; something more Cybertronian-related. She really hoped not, because that made her mind think of all sorts of crazy things that just made her anxiety grow. After all—if her powers affected _that_ , then what else could they be doing? What would have made it change, anyways? Was it the spark making, or something else or—or…

"Ugh! Just stop it!" she hissed, clenching her fists. "Just go talk to Ratchet. He'll know what's going on."

Her feet pressed on faster, only giving quick hellos to anyone she saw or any Autobots in her quest for the Medbay. Thankfully the Twins weren't there to bother her, and the number of Autobots was few. Those she did see were the ones who weren't close enough to know her behavior was unusual or worry enough to ask about it, so it was essentially a straight bee-line to her destination. It was just her luck, too, that Ratchet was the only one there, Jolt probably on break. The medic himself was looking more relaxed than usual, leaning casually against his workbench, his project unattended to his right. He noticed her right away of course, and frowned as he turned towards her, no doubt having detected the odd fluctuation in her mood.

"Catherine, are you alright?" he inquired, and at any other time she might have griped at him for being redundant since he obviously knew, but now wasn't one of those times.

"I need you to scan me," she replied quickly, and then added right before he opened his mouth to speak, "My uterus area, to be exact. Or, well, maybe go ahead and do all of me, but especially there."

His frown deepened as he stepped closer and readied his arm scanner, "Might I inquire why?"

"That's what I'm hoping you'll tell me. I think something's… wrong."

"Hold on," he spoke, activating the green light which quickly ran over her whole body, and then he turned his attention to the screen on his arm panel. Catherine watched from below as he moved his fingers along it, going through the data. She felt her stomach tighten as his frown deepened with puzzlement, his optics narrowed, and he pulled his arm closer in attempt to what she figured was to make sure he was seeing something right. She looked down a moment later, the anxiety growing too much to stand watching his expression grow worse. She twiddled her thumbs as he started on something else, grabbing some items off his workbench, and leaning down beside her after a few more seconds.

"Here, look at this," he began, setting an Autobot-sized datapad down, which he activated with a press of a button. Two blue hologram image appeared, both of a two-dimensional view of her body. Only, the only features shown were those of her reproductive organs while the rest was just a silhouette. With a small tap, the pictures zoomed in onto her reproductive organs. He pointed his finger at the one of the right. "This is what you should look like."

She stared, and by all means it was normal with eggs and all, so she nodded. Ratchet then pointed to the other.

"This is what yours _actually_ looks like," he stated grimly, and she felt a grimace come on. The eggs that had been in the previous picture were now gone, and the lining of the uterus was colored blue—oddly similar to the color the medic had chosen for her blood. She had a pretty good idea of what had happened now, and that her worries were confirmed, but she still had to ask.

"So what does it mean?"

"It means you are…Well, I believe the word a human doctor might use is 'sterile', but, essentially, you are unable to produce human offspring. Even if had those 'eggs' of yours, they wouldn't be able to fertilize. Your uterus has become infused with Energon in such a way that it prevents the formation of the lining your menstrual cycle would have as it won't uptake the necessary hormones. It has also been altered to where a--I believe you call it a sperm cell-- could not reach the egg, let alone survive in the uterus area."

"How… How did that happen, though? I mean—I-I can understand the Energon with the blood and cell tissue… Or, well, no actually, I don't. What's going on, Ratchet?"

He frowned, "It would seem I underestimated the effects of Energon mixing with organic tissues. You are the _first_ case of such an event that's survived, after all… The good news is that the changes are not detrimental. In fact, the Energon has improved your cellular energy efficiency and healing capabilities by ten-fold _again_."

"But what's going to happen if it continues? Am I going to be made of organic Energon or start growing metal skin or something?" she asked, the thoughts coming to mind not all that pleasing.

"You would have done so by now if that were the case. No—the Energon is combined with your normal body, but your organic parts are still in the greater percentage. I would say the mixture of your cells is a twenty-five-to- seventy-five ratio, and will remain as such."

She let herself relax a little, "Okay… Well, I can take being infertile. I've been kind of… Uh, 'put off' by childbirth, anyways. But, um, are you sure that's all it's going to effect? I mean, if it got rid of all my eggs and its preventing my period, what else will it do? Besides that better efficiency thing or whatever you said."

"Unfortunately, I don't know. Again, you are the first organic I've encountered in your situation. And to make matters even more complicated, it's Allspark Energon in your body, not normal Energon, so I'm at as much of a loss as you are," the medic sighed with a puzzled frown. Noticing her expression growing grimmer, he continued, "However, we will figure this out. In order to do so, I want you to come in for weekly scans every Sunday. We'll watch the progression—if there is any more—and if we see anything harmful we'll take action. Also, if it's alright with you, I believe we should tell Prime. While he doesn't know much, he does know more than I do. His advice could be highly beneficial."

She thought for a moment before nodding, "Okay. Yeah. That sounds good. I _really_ hope it's not bad… I mean, the powers have allowed me to do something so amazing with Steeljaw and the drones. I don't want it all to suddenly go bad. Granted, I suppose it's already kind of bad in a way since I'm _technically_ not fully human anymore, although _I_ don't mind having Energon blood… and uterus apparently."

Ratchet smiled softly and touched her shoulder gently. She looked up at him with a weak grin that wasn't enough to hide the worry brewing underneath. He pulled his hand back to set turn off the datapads, set them back on his workbench, and then lift the redhead up to his optic level, making sure she met his gaze.

"I may not know scrap about the Allspark, but I don't believe its powers are meant to harm you. And even if it does, I swear by my spark I won't let that happen. So you don't need to worry, little one."

Her smile gained strength as she nodded, "Got it. I can't promise I won't, but I'll try. Thanks, Ratchet."

"You're welcome. Now I suggest you start your 'not worrying' with improving your hygiene. Your body may be more immune to sickness, but it has its limits."

She laughed genuinely, "Alright, 'doc. I'm going, I'm going!"

Once she was gone, the medic turned to his workbench and activated the datapads once more, looking over the pictures and his own data once. He frowned, although not so deeply or with as much worry, but rather curiosity. He stayed that way for some time before finally turning away and activating his comm. link.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The shower was definitely a good idea. Not only was she completely refreshed and free of grime, it had helped distract her from thinking about her earlier discovery. She wasn't so worried now, though the fear remained in the back of her mind. However, it was easy to push back with a shake of her head. Besides, Ratchet was watching out for her, and the Allspark was a source of life—not death. Or, well, in Megatron's case it was, but that was different. She didn't have a spark, and there was no cube to shove at her chest to overload her. Even if it could, certainly it would have done so by now considering she had its powers running through her.

Catherine sighed as she flopped onto her bed and her three drone children scurried over to start nuzzling, crawling, and crying for her attention. She gave as much as she could to the adorable little things, and let her thoughts continue to simmer. She really didn't mind not being able to have kids. She had four already, after all, and while it wasn't hard to take care of them, they were a difficult responsibility to deal with when they got mischievous. She didn't dare imagine what an actual human child from her would act like. Furthermore, she had to get married first, and she had quite a few doubts of that happening. She didn't think any potential suitors would take so well to her being filled with Energon blood and cells and having Allspark powers, or dealing with her robotic family. The only one she could see was Sam, but they had established that their relationships would be a friendship, and she preferred it that way.

"Oh, my little drones, you are so lucky to not be human. We have so many problems," she sighed as she picked up Blaster, and he played a bit of happy music. The other two chirped with annoyance, wanting to be picked up as well. "Well, _technically_ , I'm not fully human anymore, but I'm enough to have the dramatic problems. To make matters worse I'm female, so the problems are increased by like a million times."

They didn't understand, of course, but that was the least of their concerns as she playfully rolled them around. Truthfully, she was alright with not getting married, too. Kind of. Maybe. Sometimes she wasn't so sure, but then other times she was. It was confusing. She didn't think she really needed a husband, anyways—she had all these people and mechs and femmes and quadrupeds that cared about her. Granted, she found the thought of an actual lover nice, but she had people who wanted her, and that was enough. But then again, maybe it wasn't. Or maybe it was.

With an exasperated cry she threw her arms over her head and let them fall back behind her. Honestly! Why did she have to be born a girl? She wouldn't be having these problems if she were a guy!

Teletraan suddenly buzzed, and she looked down at his chest-screen to find a message icon displayed. Curious, she had him open it up and found it was from Sideswipe. She groaned at once, but read it anyways. It was short and to the point as always, and with much reluctance, she tied her hair back, put on some casual gear, told her kids to stay put and be good and that she meant it, and then left her room. She hurried through the halls, this time undisturbed, and came to the door that was Sideswipe's room. It was opened enough for her to enter, so she did, and to her surprise, he wasn't alone.

"Jolt and-- Steeljaw?!" she inquired as soon as she was in, staring at her golden-armored creation and the electric-blue-armored mech.

Sideswipe grinned, "Yep. They're going to help out. Oh, don't look so unhappy—you're going to have fun!"

"Considering I'm taking the fall, I'm going be as unhappy as I bloody want to," she barked back as she sauntered over to Steeljaw and leaned against him. He purred once she began to stroke his neck, just behind his mane's plates where it was hard for him to reach.

"Well, if everything goes right, you won't have to. It will look like a nice little accident," Jolt winked, a devilish smirk on his face that did not make her feel any better.

"Ugh. Fine," she sighed, and then turned her gaze onto Steeljaw. "I can't believe _you_ , of all people, would be here, Steeljaw. And here I thought you were a good little lion."

He gave a toothy grin, "Oh, I am. I also know how to have fun. And do cheer up, Catherine. It won't be so bad, and you'll be glad you helped."

"You said 'forced' wrong."

"You should have won the match then," the silver mech teased, and she made a mimicking gesture. "Your face was priceless when I got you by the way."

"So was yours when I shot you in the face."

He laughed, "Fair enough! So, Jolt, did you get everything I asked?"

"That and more, my friend. You should never doubt a prank master," he smirked, patting a container that rattled at his touch. Catherine raised a brow curiously, but decided not to ask.

"You forget, my friend, that I, too, am a master level prankster," Sideswipe snorted haughtily before laughing.

"So are we going to be leaving any time soon? I want to get this done _before_ my break is over and I have to get to signing papers," she spoke up loudly, and both looked down at her excitedly.

"Well then, let's get to work," her silver-armored friend smirked, and they were off.

**\-----------------------**

**TMWolf:** _So, I did it. I incorporated or will incorporate a prank! It's only natural! And just so you all know- Jolt is actually a prankster. Just read his biography on the TFWiki page. Weird, huh? Anyways! SO. Trouble indeed! Also so you all know- the loss of her fertility and period isn't life threatening. I researched on conditions where women go through the same thing, and it's not life threatening at all, so 'Cat's condition won't harm her either. So, yes, the Allspark has messed with her body some, but it's done good, too- her metabolism handles energy better and her body can heal faster._

_But don't worry guys! Ratchet's on guard! :D He's lookin' out for little 'ol 'Cat! And now you can count on lots of Autobot vs Human training :)_

_And not much else to say I guess. Prepare for pranking and super awesome fun time next chapter, yeah! :)_


	33. Son of a Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Oh Land - Sun Of A Gun. I haven't looked up the lyrics, but the title fits pretty good if I don't say so my self, so yeah xD It's an interesting song, anyways, ha ha.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“This is such a bad idea!” Catherine groaned as she sat atop Steeljaw’s back, the metal lion standing off to the side as the two others mechs—Sideswipe and Jolt—grinned like fools while they fumbled with one of the many pop-up targets in the Autobot’s training hangar. They completely ignored her as Sideswipe held the panel on the target’s chest open, revealing the empty space within that was slowly being filled with paint. The drones were more so human shaped than Cybertronian, but they were also hollow and large enough to put gallons of paint in them and also fit a lovely little Energon explosive to go off at a particular time thanks to Sideswipe’s clever mind and Jolt’s engineering skills.

“Oh, stop worrying, ‘Cat! It’s going to be _fine_!” the silver mech laughed, casting a quick glance in her direction. Beneath her, Steeljaw shifted and attempted to look back, but his metal mane’s panels made it so he could just barely catch glimpse of her.

“Ironhide is busy training the human troops and will not return for many hours, so we are quite safe,” the lion assured her, but she wasn’t worried about Ironhide finding them while setting up the prank. She was more worried about when he would find out as a victim. _That_ was going to be worse.

“Why are we even doing this?” she huffed, folding her arms.

Sideswipe rolled his optics, “Geez. What’s with you? You’re starting to sound like Ironhide! He’s just getting back a little of what he’s always dishing out to us in training. He gives us dents and bruises—”

“—And we give him pink-covered armor,” Jolt finished, his grin widening.

“And you honestly think this is going to end well?”

“Well, since you’re taking the blame… Kind of,” the silver mech laughed, and let the panel fall once Jolt had all the paint poured in. He then reached into his subspace—or that’s what she knew it was called, anyways. Ratchet had explained it was a large spacing that they could decrease or increase in size by moving their armor around the base frame that was their main body. Pretty much anything could be placed into the subspace—equipment; items; weapons, although those were normally integrated into the base frame; and bombs, as Sideswipe demonstrated when he pulled out the watch-like contraption.

Catherine had to admit it; for being an idiot most of the time, the silver mech was actually kind of smart, or creative, she supposed. He had managed to adapt human technology with Cybertronian Energon to create a nifty time bomb that would go off during Ironhide’s practice and splatter him with paint. The bomb would be harmless, of course, except in regards to the target drone. That would be destroyed completely and paint would get everywhere, but that was the idea.

“Alright, so you’re sure you have it set for _exactly_ when Ironhide will come for _this_ drone?” Jolt inquired seriously, and Sideswipe nodded back just as such.

“Yeah. I’ve been monitoring his training the past week and he follows the exact same pattern. If nothing gets in the way, it should work perfectly!”

“Good. Then let’s—”

“What are you guys doing?” a familiar, but not-supposed-to-be-there voice spoke up, and all four turned, deer-in-the-headlights on maximum power, and stared at the two, curious and confused figures of Blazemaster and Evac. The staring contest went on for a good full ten seconds, both sides trying to figure out the other, although Catherine’s mine was more preoccupied with the fact they had been found and she was going to be in so much trouble. It only got worse as Evac’s head tilted, his visor focusing on the silver mech's curious item.

“Sideswipe… why is there a _bomb_ in your hand?”

“And… is that… _paint_?” Blazemaster added, a black, metal digit pointing out the pink-stained edge of the paint can in Jolt’s hands.

“Ah, yes, well, uh,” Sideswipe quickly stammered. “We, um, are, uh… pranking… Ironhide?”

_I’m going to kill you Sideswipe. I swear to God I am going to kill you. Do you feel that seething rage biting into your spark? That’s me. Watch yourself_ , Catherine hissed silently as she glared daggers at the silver mech, and he cast a swift glance in her direction as if he had. She snorted and then turned her eyes onto their new guests.

She knew Evac could be persuaded not to say anything—he was a sucker for humans, and she was one of his favorites since she lived on the Autobot side and had a few conversations with him before. Blazemaster, however, was a different story. There was no way he could keep his mouth shut considering how much of a loud mouth he was when it came to Decepticons. She had heard it from the mech himself that he _happily_ told the enemy he was going to attack them. They couldn’t expect him not to tell Ironhide.

And then, to her and everyone else’s surprise, both of them started to laugh. Catherine just stared, baffled, while Sideswipe and Jolt shared a relieved and grateful glance as the two 'bots moved closer. Blazemaster even came right up to the target, optics looking over their work. The increase in brightness of his optics was enough to show there was a smile hidden behind his face mask.

“I personally wouldn’t have used paint, but this is brilliant!” the mech laughed and clapped Sideswipe on the back, causing him to nearly drop the bomb. The silver mech thankfully caught it after a few fumbles and sent a look at the reckless mech who quickly apologized.

“So… you guys are okay with it?” Catherine spoke up, nudging Steeljaw closer with her legs and he complied.

Evac grinned a little, “I know—I don’t seem the type, right? Well, I would never say it aloud normally, but Ironhide’s been getting really rough with practice these days. It’d be nice to pay him back a little!”

“Exactly!” Jolt laughed and grasped the orange-and-white mech’s shoulder. “Which is why we’re going to paint him a nice shade of pink while he’s training. There’s always a crowd, too, so he’ll be sufficiently embarrassed.”

“You mean pissed off!” the redhead growled, and Blazemaster and Sideswipe both grinned at her.

“Pretty much. I can get more people to come, too, if you want. Knock Out and Gears would be happy to see this!” the gold-and-blue armored mech chuckled. “And you should do more than just one drone! You need to make it so he can be completely covered!”

“Well, that wouldn’t be too bad, but we didn’t have enough materials for more than one timed explosive,” Steeljaw explained, and the reckless mech laughed again.

His optics flared, “That’s because you didn’t have Blazemaster in on it! I can make you a timed explosive easy!”

“Blazemaster, no! You’re going to use your corrosive gel! That stuff will cause way more damage than Sideswipe’s!” Evac barked at once, jabbing a finger at his companion.

“Oh, yeah. We can’t use that slag of yours! We just want to cover him with paint—not corrode his armor!” Sideswipe frowned, and the blue-and-gold mech sighed.

“I _do_ have different kinds of corrosive gels, and I’d only use the gel to activate the explosives. Geez!”

“Okay, so hold up. How do you plan on making these things?” Catherine butt in as she slipped of Steeljaw’s back to lean against his side.

Blazemaster’s optics flared again, “There’s plenty of junk Earth metal around here, and all I need are two special little gels of mine that, when they mix, create a nice little explosion that’ll burst the paint right out of the targets’ shells with no harm done to anyone but the targets and Ironhide’s pride!”

“And you’re sure?” she pressed, and he nodded confidently. “Alright, fine. But hurry up then.”

“Whoa, whoa—you’re suddenly on board now?” Sideswipe inquired, an incredulous optic ridge raised. The redhead shrugged with sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I was complaining my ass off a second ago, but now these two are in on it, so there’s no way I can somehow magically convince you it won’t work. I figure why the hell not go along with it then? I’m screwed regardless since I’m letting you get away with it and taking the blame.”

The silver mech laugh, “That’s the spirit! Look, I promise I’ll do something nice later, alright? Promise.”

“That ‘something’ better involve kissing my ass for like a month,” she huffed, and Sideswipe grinned.

“It seems we are in good business then,” Steeljaw purred, nudging his creator playfully. “Shall we hurry and get started? We have only have about five hours now until Ironhide returns. We must work quickly.”

“No problem. Let’s go get some parts!” Blazemaster laughed, bordering on a cackle that made Catherine’s confidence waver a little. She just sighed again, though, as Steeljaw went off with the crazed, reckless mech and Evac, while Jolt remained with Sideswipe to plant the first bomb. There really was no point in fighting it. Still, she really wished she could have won the practice fight.

Well, at least Sideswipe was going to be a kiss-ass for a month. That was something to look forward to.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine sighed for the millionth time in her swivel chair, using her feet to twirl herself back and forth in a semicircle. Her unfinished work lay on her desk in the form of far less paper than before. She and Marissa had been doing great at their jobs, and so the work load was down to a minimum, especially with requests for items beginning to lessen and the base beginning to settle. There was always going to be work, of course, but not as much, and for that she was glad. It was a shame that she wasn’t getting any of it done and enjoying it like she should have. Of course, it was a little hard when the consequences of four mischievous mechs and one equally mischievous quadruped was looming over her, ready to strike.

“Hey boys, do you think it would be possible to hijack a plane and run away for a while?” she inquired to her three little drone children. Now that they were widely accepted, she had taken up bringing all of them with her to her work room. They were glad to take up wrestling with each other, so they weren’t a distraction. At the moment, they were merely loafing around, but perked up when she called out to them.

_“Don’t phunk_ ,” was all Blaster had to say, and although it was an odd reply, she knew what he meant. Cybermon was much the same with a shake of his head and an odd Pokémon-like sound, and Teletraan put a “no” on his chest screen.

“I thought so,” she sighed again. “Well, I guess bring on the fire. But not really. I’d rather not. Oh, and just as a precaution—don’t freak out if I don’t come back for a while. I might be banned to the human side for this.”

She knew the thought was ridiculous, but she was in the mood for such things and grumping about. Her creations watched her for a few more seconds, having been told not to worry earlier on, and stopped when Blaster suddenly tackled Teletraan and they began to wrestle. Cybermon quickly joined them, and the redhead once again attempted to focus on her work.

The latest paper was something on a request for a medical team to be placed under Ratchet’s authority, and while that would be beneficial, she knew it wouldn’t work out. For one, Ratchet refused. He liked humans most of the time, but the incident with that one soldier had made it clear things wouldn’t work. Furthermore, a human interacting with Energon wasn’t safe. While she had turned out okay, her exposure had nearly killed her. Of course, the officials hadn’t been told that, but stating that the medic wasn’t compatible didn’t work as well as a proper explanation would. Normally, she would have used herself as an example, but Lennox had informed her that no one save their group knew the full details of Mission City and that included her having Energon poisoning. Apparently that wouldn’t go over so well with a lot of people, so that was supposed to be a secret, too.

_Well, telling everyone I got it from a Decepticon during the fight does make me more of a badass. Technically, it’s true, since I got it from Barricade, but the timing’s a little off. Oh, and the whole ‘I-was-infected-with-Energon-and-almost-died thing_ , she mused, turning her right arm to look down at the scar. The flesh of the wound was paler than her normal skin as always and had the metallic sheen in direct light with a plastic feel to it, but otherwise it didn’t look out of place. Of course, that was when she wasn’t using her powers. With a simple increase of concentration her veins lit with a blue glow. It was only there for a second and then she let it go, her arm returning its normal, tanned color.

“I kind of miss making sparks,” she mumbled, glancing over at her creations. “But with Barricade here I can’t, and then I doubt I can make a real one without taking from others. I won’t do that, though. Not ever. It’s not right. Jazz said—or, well, _implied_ I would figure it out, but how _long_ until I do?”

Cybermon, having escaped from the tussle that still consumed Teletraan and Blaster, said something that sounded like it came from a Pikachu, and climbed up her chair to sit in her lap. He curled up into a ball, pressing into her lower abdomen, and she stroked his side to appease him. She looked down with a smile, but paused when she opened her mouth to speak as she thought of something. She had forgotten to ask about it, and hadn’t thought of it for some time, but now that they were around alone, she thought she might try it out. Continuing to pet Cybermon, she closed her eyes and focused on that place she remember that feeling being—the one where she felt the connection between them.

She was surprised— although she probably shouldn’t have—when she felt a myriad of emotions spring back. Though her eyes were closed, she could _see_ Teletraan and Blaster fighting playfully, but even then she wasn’t really seeing it. She just—she _knew_ they were there and could feel them as if she were staring at them, and as she pushed further towards them she almost felt herself _become_ them. She instinctively panicked at the thought and pulled away, returning into herself. Her eyes flashed open and she found Cybermon chirping with concern and Teletraan and Blaster had stopped wrestling to stare at her worriedly, too.

“What… was that?” she murmured, shaking her head to shake away the odd feeling. A normal person might have backed away, but Catherine was inclined to try again, and so closed her eyes. She found the spot at once and again felt her creations—saw them in her head and felt them moving without actually physically feeling them move. It was… strange, but enthralling at the same time. She could feel their emotions, too. They were just as curious and shocked as she was, but also happy. She could feel them reaching out to her, reciprocating her call, and she let them as she pushed out further, searching for her fourth child.

She found him, and unlike the drones, she could swear she felt _thoughts_ from the metal lion. However, when she tried to give shape to the words or remember them, she couldn’t. He was delighted though—ecstatic even. His reach was strongest of all, and as she sat there she felt herself becoming part of them all. She felt her own thoughts and emotions melding with theirs and while it was strange, it felt right. It felt complete.

But then Teletraan buzzed, and she was thrust back into reality. She gasped for air as she did so, having forgotten to breathe throughout the sensation. A drop of sweat dribbled down her brow and she wiped it away at first without a second thought, but then paused as she realized she had worked up a sweat reaching out through the connection. That, in turn, made her curious about the connection itself. Elita-1 and everything Ratchet had given her said sparks were just made from Energon and could have signatures “transferred” or shared amongst Mechs and Femmes and Quadrupeds, but she was _human_. Granted she did have Energon in her blood, so it was possible she had given some of her Energon to her creations. However, she didn’t have a spark to reach out to them, so how did she do it?

Could it be there was more to sparks than they thought? Were sparks more than just Energon and wavelengths? But then what could they be?

Teletraan beeped again, and she was released from her stupor. She looked over at the little drone as he climbed his way up her desk. She helped the rest of the way and looked on his chest, which had a message from Sideswipe. She opened it and sighed again. Her thoughts on sparks would have to wait, but this time she knew she wouldn’t be able to just put it aside like before. She would have to ask Ratchet now, and possibly Optimus. She might even ask Sideswipe or the Triplets again—they had a special kind of Spark Bond, after all. The dumb-and-dumber Twins might have been an option, but she didn’t trust their opinion or their behavior around her.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,” she said aloud as she typed a similar message back. Evidently she had been working longer than she thought—Ironhide was starting his training, which meant she had to start making her way over there to take the blame. She could hardly contain her joy and excitement. With her fourth sigh, she swung her chair around, picked up all her little drones, set them onto her shoulders, and headed out.

Only, she had to pause as a trio of males rushed by, making a loud comment about a prank being pulled on the “Old Fart”. It didn’t take long for her mind to figure it out and she mouthed “oh no” as she smacked her palm to her face.

“Sideswipe I am going to fucking murder you!” she hissed lowly, and typed as such on Teletraan as she took off at a fast jog, forcing her drones to latch on tight save for Teletraan who was gripped securely in her hands.

That good-for-nothing jerk had apparently spread the word or gotten the others to do so and now the humans were involved! This was so—as a Cybertronian would put it—slagging bad she didn’t even know how to properly express her anger towards the silver mech. She had said he would have to kiss ass for a month, but now he was going to have to do it for a whole damned year if he wanted to make it up to her. It was one thing for this prank to be between the Autobots, but the humans, too? She could get into serious trouble if the wrong people saw it!

Curses flew through her mind as she passed more than just a few people up—somehow magically no longer uneasy about coming to the Autobot side—and hurried to the training room. Those in her way gladly moved when she shouted for them to, so she was squeezing her way into the room in no time. There wasn’t much of a crowd of humans yet, but more than a few Autobots were there. The actual two masterminds weren’t, of course, but that could be easily changed, and she quickly set that into motion with Teletraan's aid as she hurried over to Evac and Blazemaster’s spots. The noticed her, of course, and their grins told her they had absolutely no qualms.

“What the hell is this?!” she growled, kicking at Blazemaster’s foot. “Why are there people here?”

“It was Sideswipe’s idea. He thought the humans could use some fun, too,” the mech shrugged.

Catherine growled as she ran a hand through her hair, “I’ll bet, the bastard. _Ugh_. How much time until it goes off?”

“Five seconds,” Evac replied at once, and Catherine spun to face the black mech plowing his way through targets. She prepared her groan even before Ironhide approached the target of his demise, and spared a glance at the growing crowd of humans and curious Autobots wondering about their coming. And then it happened.

There was a loud crack followed by an equally loud splash. Then there was the excruciating silence except for boots hitting against the floor as more people came in. They soon stopped and stared along with everyone else at the still form of the hulking, black mech. Or, well, he wasn’t so black anymore.

Just as planned, the targets filled with paint had gone off all at once, releasing a wave of pink paint that now drenched the large Autobot and the floor. Ironhide hadn’t seemed to fully comprehend it all yet, as he still stood there, his gun ready to blast the target that had done the job itself. However, after a few more seconds, he suddenly lowered his cannon arm and looked down at his body, the pink paint dripping off him.

And then it started—the laughter.

It was just a chuckle at first, but then some stupid soldier suddenly _exploded_ into a giggle fit, and, of course, everyone else followed in suit. Catherine felt the noose tightening around her neck.

It wasn’t just the humans, though. No, she soon heard mechanical laughter following, and she looked up to find Evac and Blazemaster laughing their tin cans off. She looked the other way and found Knock and Gears nearly doubled over. Even Brawn and Springer were laughing. To top the cake was the biggest surprise of all the Autobots—Chromia laughing hysterically. The Femme could barely stay balanced on her wheel as she grasped onto Brawn for support because she was laughing so hard. It was too much for Catherine and she suddenly started laughing, too.

Ironhide finally noticed, and looked over at them, still confused as to what the hell had happened. He was covered in pink paint, and yet didn’t know why or how. However, the laughter was doing a _very_ good job of clearing up the fog, and his optics slowly, but surely began to narrow and his lips arched downward in a scowl. Without a word he began to walk towards the crowd which was still having a glorious time laughing. Those that kept coming in soon joined them, and another Autobot—Jolt—jumped in on the funand went into a hysterical fit.

Even when the mech came within twenty feet of them, the group still laughed. Thankfully, it had settled down into chuckles at that point, and some were even beginning to try to stop considering the black mech was giving them all a hard glare. Some of the younger Autobots had managed to do so, but Brawn and Chromia were still at it. Granted, they didn’t have as much to worry about. Catherine had stopped, as well, and was beginning to worry as Ironhide’s optics narrowed.

“Where. Is. He?” was all Ironhide growled out, and the laughing amongst the humans vanished, through the Minibot and Femme went on chuckling.

“W-who, ‘Hide?” Brawn managed to ask.

“That Pit-spawned slagger Sideswipe! I _know_ this was his idea, now where is he?” the now pink Autobot snarled.

“Ah, well, actually!” Catherine spoke up loudly, stepping out and gaining everyone’s attention. It was enough to make her falter and consider telling exactly where Sideswipe was, but then she remembered her bet. “It was, uh, my idea.”

“ _What_?” was his incredulous reply, and similar notions went amongst all the faces there. She spared a glance in the crowd’s direction and found shock, but also respect and… smiles? They were _happy_ she had done it? It was funny, but still—they were really that happy about it? Well, that did make things better, but she was still so screwed.

She rubbed the back of her head, “Yeah. I, uh, I planned this.”

He stared for a moment, “I don’t believe you. Where is he?”

“No! It’s true! I got others to help!” she shouted, her lie failing miserably.

“Where is he, Catherine?”

_Whelp. No point in continuing on with the charade_. “He’s right there,” she sighed, pointing her finger at the door where, as if on cue, the silver mech appeared with an expectant grin on his face. It vanished in the next instant as an Energon blast scorched the spot where his head had been. With a yelp, he raced inside while the humans either gasped and moved out of the way or laughed their asses off again. Ironhide fired another shot, but missed once more as Sideswipe sped further from his only exit. He took up hiding behind one of the large containers in the room, peering over the top carefully.

“What the frag are doing, Ironhide?!” he howled, while the others chuckled at his expense.

“I am covered in pink paint, Sideswipe!” the royally-pissed mech spoke plainly, aiming his gun at the silver mech once more.

Things clicked pretty quickly and Sideswipe glared at the redhead, “You were supposed to take the blame, you traitor!”

“He didn’t believe me!” she shouted back, and more laughter followed. Thankfully for Sideswipe, Chromia realized the potential danger brooding and rolled over to her potential spark mate.

“Now, now, Ironhide. No need to kill him,” she purred, but Ironhide merely grunted.

“Not now, Femme.”

“Ironhide,” she began sternly and he glanced down at her. “Do _not_ make me get angry with you.”

Near the entrance, more snickers went up along with comments of being ‘whipped’. Catherine could just see the black mech’s anger meter rise. His pride was being ravaged and destroyed by the second, and the humans and Autobots were only making it worse. She really hoped someone had called Ratchet or Optimus. Or, well, just Optimus really. Ratchet would probably be firing at Sideswipe, too. Granted, he deserved every bit of it.

“But he painted me _pink_ ,” Ironhide huffed, his cannon still aimed at the mech.

“I know, 'bot, but there are much better ways to get back at him than killing him. That would be too easy,” Chromia smiled, and the pink-painted mech hummed with contemplation.

Sideswipe, however, did not like the idea, “What? _Chromia!_ ”

“Oh? You thought I was on your side, youngling?” she cooed, and the silver mech whined before looking to Catherine, his optics begging her to save him. She merely shrugged and mouthed “you're screwed” while giving him a thumbs up. He promptly glared and replied with a rude hand gesture.

“Forgive me, but I’d rather just kill him,” Ironhide said after a few more moments and his cannon began to charge.

“Ironhide, don’t kill him,” the perfectly-timed voice of Optimus rang through the hanger, and the group of humans parted and stood at attention as the towering mech strolled through with Lennox right at his feet. Sideswipe visibly relaxed and vented a sigh of relief, even daring to stand up. Ironhide didn’t lower his arm, however, nor powered down his cannons. Catherine joined her two Commanders as they came closer, and smiled cheekily when Lennox gave her a look.

“I see Sideswipe managed to pull a prank. How long as it been since that’s happened?” the Autobot commander mused, and some surprised remarks came from the crowd.

“Not long enough,” the black mech growled and steadied his arm.

“ _Ironhide_ ,” Optimus spoke, his voice stern, and his comrade finally relented and lowered his cannon with a growl.

“Ha! That’s right! Besides, this was hilarious! Tell him this is the funniest thing you’ve seen in a long time, Prime!” Sideswipe barked, and the Commander looked between the two groups. Behind him, both Cybertronian and human soldiers watched as Optimus continued to survey the scene for a little bit longer.

It took what felt forever, but the Autobot Commander chuckled.

Ironhide huffed, Chromia smiled, Sideswipe grinned confidently, and everyone else looked up at the mech with surprise. However, that quickly changed when Optimus gave an oddly devilishly smile to his oldest friend.

“I know you wanted to kill him, but then that would leave nothing for Ratchet,” the commander hummed, and at once the bulky Autobot smirked. Sideswipe promptly displayed a look of sheer terror.

“What! Optimus! Nooo! Why?!” he shrieked, but the Commander merely smiled. Sideswipe groaned and looked to Ironhide pleadingly. “Please just kill me.”

Ironhide's smirk widened, “I don’t think so.”

“But… I’m… I’m sorry?”

“I don’t think so.”

“ _Well_ , if we are all done here, I suggest that _some_ people get back to their duty!” Lennox barked after a few moments, spinning around to pin a hard glare on his troops. The group of humans straightened at once, saluted, and rushed out, laughter still on their lips. Once they were all out, Lennox smirked. He laughed once he got another look at Ironhide, and then approached Catherine.

“You know you’re going to have tell me all about this, right?” he chuckled, and she nodded.

“No problem. It’s a pretty interesting story, too.”

“Alright, well, I got my troops back, so I’ll see you later, Optimus. Good luck with yours,” the human Commander waved and headed out, his duty elsewhere now. Optimus gave his thanks and turned to his crew.

“Ironhide, head to Ratchet to clean up. The rest of you return to your posts. Except you, Sideswipe,” he quickly added when the silver mech attempted to slink off with the others. “You’re staying here to clean up.”

“But—I wasn’t the only one!” he shouted, but Prime held up his hand to silence him.

“I’m sure you had accomplices, but this is _your_ prank, and so _you_ will be held most accountable. Don’t worry, though—everyone will be punished in time. Now, there are cleaning supplies somewhere around here the humans left behind. I suggest you get to work if you don’t want to miss your break before duty.”

“Wait—duty? But I finished this afternoon,” the silver mech frowned, and Prime smirked.

“You’ll be taking Ironhide’s shift for the next two weeks.”

The Autobot’s groan was heard throughout the base, and he begrudgingly went to work while the rest of the Autobots left. Catherine, on the other hand, left with Optimus upon request, riding upon his shoulders as he walked through the halls. She had forgotten how tall he was up until now, and looked down with awe over his shoulder. It was like she was on the roof of a building. A mobile, ass-kicking building, that is. One that was oddly quiet and making her nervous, too. So much for thinking she wasn’t going to get in trouble since she was a victim.

“So, uh, if I tell you everything do I get off the hook?” she spoke up once they were in the hall, and the Commander chuckled.

“I am fully aware this was not your doing. Both Lennox and Jazz informed me of the little ‘bet’ you were coerced into. Although, I would appreciate the names of his co-conspirators,” he hummed with an unusually sly smile on his face.

“Oh. Well. Uh, sure. Your smile’s scaring me, by the way,” she replied, and the Commander laughed.

“My apologies. I should actually be thanking you, or, rather Sideswipe, I suppose. It has been a very long time since any of us have been able to laugh like that. I’m sure those who missed it will be able to do the same once Jazz gets his hands on the security feed.”

“Oh. Oh! Wait—how long has it been since you guys had fun?”

“Millennia. Sideswipe was prominent in his antics when he was still fairly young, as was Jolt, and while their pranks were tiresome, they were also a form of relief for the troops during the war. However, as time went on and the war saw no end, the pranks become less common, and once the Allspark was jettisoned and our forces separated… well, there was and is little time for fun when the threat of the Decepticons remains.”

Catherine frowned, “I… Yeah, that makes sense… Well, I guess, you're welcome then. I mean, we finally have time considering the ‘Cons are practically non…existent… now… Optimus… why… why are you frowning?”

Her stomach had gone a little cold when the Autobot Commander expression had gone sour as she spoke of Decepticons, and even her little drones shared the worry as they chirped at the Prime. He had stopped moving as well, standing in the middle of the hall as he turned his optics to look at Catherine. His face said everything, but she wanted him to say it aloud anyways. Or rather, she didn’t want him, too, but he had to. He had to confirm it.

“We’ve received reports of Decepticon sightings again.”

She bit her lip, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Like big forces? Like another invasion? Like they found what they’re after?”

“No,” he shook his head and she felt some relief. “But it is a larger group than unusual, and this time a jet has been sighted.”

“Starscream.”

“It may be. I plan to deploy a team along with Lennox’s troops to track and possible engage them. However, the main task is to discover their purpose for coming here.”

She nodded, “But how? Interrogations haven’t really been working, and they usually end up dead…”

“I am hoping we can coerce Barricade in helping. He may be able to hack into the Decepticon comm. links and discover something for us.”

“Barricade? I doubt it. He may be a neutral now, but he’s not the type to help us out,” Catherine frowned, though the idea was a good one.

“That may be so, but we must try,” Prime sighed, and then looked to her again. “I do not believe you are in danger, but I thought it was best you be informed. Commander Lennox meant to tell you about himself, but he thought it would be best I did. Know that, should the Decepticons come here I promise we will protect you no matter what.”

She smiled softly, “I know. Thanks, although it’s not really great news. I guess let’s just hope we can find something out.”

Optimus nodded in agreement and continued on. Both were silent as he returned her to her office, leaving her to brood amongst her thoughts. It was never good the Decepticons were up to something, but what _were_ they up to? That was the million dollar question, but it looked like they were nowhere near it. Time was the only way they would know, but from where she was standing, time looked to be running out. She would keep hope, though. It was all she really could do.

**\-----------------------------------------**

**TMWolf:** _So.. I don't know about you guys, but I start these off with "so" a lot. Oh, and I thought the prank was hilarious. I certainly had a blast writing it! :D Anywho, 'Cat figured out how to tap into a different level of her powers and can even mentally "_ feel _" her creations. There's more on that to come, I assure you, and you will find out what exactly it is actually pretty soon! :)_

_Oh, and Decepticons are back! Kind of. Still searching for the Harvester, as we all know from ROTF. Don't expect too much until after the break, though, and some big time skips coming up after 'Cat's break._

_Until next time everyone! And here's a hint: Prepare for the most annoying man in the world that we all want to... parachute off a plane ;)_


	34. Points of Authority

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song by Linkin Park lol

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_"So tomorrow's the big day_ ," Sam hummed on the other side of the phone, which made Catherine snort. 

"Yeah—my last day on Earth since I'm probably going to end up shooting myself after like a minute of listening to that man," she spat back as she ran a brush through her hair. Taking a shower after a long training session always felt great, and this time was no different. Things only improved further when Sam called at his usual time. He couldn't always call her, but whenever he could he would.

_"He can't be_ that _bad. I mean, you took on_ Megatron _, after all,"_ her friend replied with a chuckle, but Catherine cut him off with a sigh.

"That's because I could stick the Allspark Cube up his spark and kill him—I can't do that to Galloway. No—I have to be _diplomatic_ and be his best little buddy and all eloquence-like. I would take Megatron over Galloway any day."

She could imagine Sam wincing as he hissed, _"Ouch. He must really be bad then. Makes me glad that I'm back here safe and sound from all that political bull crap except for when I see it on T.V."_

"Don't remind me," she grumbled, tossing her brush aside and nudging Cybermon so that he tumbled over with a delighted squeal. "By the way—how are things? I haven't gotten to ask in a while..."

_"Not bad, to be honest. Parents are, well, you know, my parents. Or, well, actually, things are better since my grades have increased and all."_

"That's right—you're doing all AP and have all A's right? I still don't believe it, but 'Bee showed me your grades. I don't know how you did it, but I'm proud of ya, Sammy-boy," she laughed, falling back onto her sheets and letting her little drones crawl over her.

He chuckled, _"Thanks. I have no idea either, but hopefully it'll get me into a good college. I've already started applying, too. If you were still here we probably could've gone to the same one, 'Cat!"_

"Huh. Yeah, maybe. That would've been so cool," she chuckled back. "How's the whole 'everyone-hates-you-because-of-your-girlfriend' thin? Oh, and hear anything from Miles?"

_"No, nothing from Miles. His parents say he's fine, though. As for the first question; to be honest... I haven't really gotten anywhere. I'm not sure I want to, anyways. I guess you're the only friend for me,"_ he laughed, and it was a genuine laugh. She laughed with him, and stopped as he finally continued. _"Don't worry about me, though. I'm fine. 'Bee's practically you, only a robot and a guy, or, well, he acts like one, and Mikeala's there, too, and we're still doing great. How about you? Finally got yourself somebody?"_

"Sam, you know the answer," she smirked. "No one here's the one for me, and that's without even knowing my little secret. Besides, I doubt anyone would get far with my little family. They're all big, protective guys with guns or robots with big guns. You do the math."

_"Ah. Yeah. That, uh... That would pose a problem, wouldn't it? Well, if you got an_ Autobot _..."_ he began and burst out into a cackle when she groaned and yelled at him to shut up.

"Ugh! Do you realize how much I get that?! I don't need _you_ of all people talking about! Everyone's going to start thinking I really do have an Autobot boyfriend!" she shouted, and she felt Teletraan shift a little in her grip, not appreciating her yelling. "Besides, that'd be weird! A human and a Cybertronian? There are just so many things wrong with that!"

_"Okay! Okay! Geez!"_ he laughed, no doubt pretending to raise his hands up in surrender. _"But you would be the one to do it."_

"Sam. Just stop talking. Right now. I have 'Bee on speed dial, and I'm not afraid to use him," she sighed, rubbing her brow, and the young man let out a small laugh before stifling it. "And to change the subject—Good news! Lennox and I will be heading home in just four days! _Four_ days! We'll get to see each other soon!"

He balked for a few seconds before shouting, _"Are... Are you serious?! That's—that's great! God! I can't wait! Oh, it's going to be so great, Catherine! I've got a surprise for you, too!"_

"Whoa—a _surprise_? Like what kind?" she grinned, but got a "nah-ah-ah" from the young man right away.

_"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise! You'll have to wait and see!"_ he laughed, and she laughed with him again.

"Alright, alright," she said once she'd settled down once more. "I'll wait. It's going to be great to see you again."

_"Yeah. Definitely,"_ he replied back softly, and she smiled warmly. _"Just make sure you don't shoot yourself tomorrow."_

With a groan and succeeding laugh from the young man, Catherine rolled onto her stomach and began to gripe about the insufferable man.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine sighed as she stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn't one to take the time for such vanities, but today seemed like it was necessary. Today was, after all, the day she met with Galloway in person, and, although she would have loved nothing more than to tell the man he could "suck it", she had to make a good impression. The first step? Dressing the part of a proper liaison.

She wouldn't and couldn't lie—all her stay here she had essentially worn the same gear as every other soldier; loose shirt and pants that were easy to move in. For working out, training, and just moseying about the base, that was fine. However, for a political meeting with the person you were going to have to get along with or when she needed to communicate with the major country funding the project, something with a bit more etiquette and finesse was required. For that reason, she had turned to Marissa to get her latest attire: A fine-pressed, black official's top coat, settled over a white shirt tucked neatly into her same-shade-of-blue pants—she refused to wear a long skirt—shiny, black shoes, and an adorably annoying little army hat that didn't want to fit comfortably over her bun.

She personally didn't want to have to wear the clothes. She felt stiff and like something might rip if she bent over, but it was a must for this event. She was mostly just glad she wasn't forced to wear the skirt, and the small bit of metal on her shoulders and chest were kind of nice. She particularly liked the NEST symbol pinned to her hat, and the Autobot one on her sleeve. None of the others apparently had the red, robotic face, so she felt some pride in that. The colors were nice, too; she was particularly fond of blue. Her face felt like it was going to peel apart, though, with how tight Marissa had made her bun.

All in all, it was uncomfortable, but she'd only have to wear it for a few hours, apparently. After that, she could put on chicken suit for all anyone cared, but for now, she had to go meet up with Lennox, the General, and Marissa to greet her new coworker.

"Well, here we go," she said at last, turning to her three creations. "Wish me luck guys, and please behave. Steeljaw's not off duty, so he's not here to look after you, which means you're on your own. Be. _Good_. I don't want to find claw marks on the walls again!"

All three made some kind of confirmation sound while looking perfectly innocent, though they couldn't be any farther from the truth except maybe for Teletraan who only had a small record of mischievousness. She nodded, accepting it, and strolled out the door, attempting to walk the way her commander and her liaison teacher had instructed. She had to pause, though, as she nearly ran into a wheel attached to a silver-armored foot. She blinked once, not having expected it, but then slowly closed the door behind her and looked up a raised brow at the goofy-looking grin on Sideswipe's face.

"What do you want?" she sighed after another moment, placing her hands on her hips to prepare for whatever dumb thing he wanted.

"Oh, just came to wish you some luck," he hummed, and she knew he was lying without even tapping into her powers.

"You're taking a picture aren't you?"

His grin widened, "Already did. I have to get you back in every way possible for ratting me out, you know."

"I told you—Ironhide didn't believe me."

"That counts as ratting me out. Now whatever shall I do with these? Maybe edit them a bit? You humans have a wonderful photo editing program for it."

"Oh, is that so? Well, maybe I'll just let Optimus in on all those other prank plans you have," she purred back, and the silver mech looked at with her confusion.

"But I don't have any other plans... yet."

"Ah, but your Commander doesn't know that, and he trusts my word especially since he knew I was forced into your last prank," she smiled devilishly, and a frown appeared on Sideswipe's face.

"You wouldn't."

"Play around with that picture, and I will," she grinned. "Anyways, as much as I love messing with you, I _really_ do have to get going. Galloway will be here soon and I, unfortunately, have to spend the day with him."

"Sounds like fun. Want me to shoot him for you?" he chuckled, and she paused to pretend to consider it.

"While that would do everyone and their dog a favor, it would be bad for you guys, so thanks, but no. Oh, and I know you're still taking up Ironhide's shift, so you'll have to hear the story tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Try and get a few burns in there to make things interesting, yeah?" he smirked, and she returned it, giving him a thumbs up.

"No promises!" she shouted as she started off again. She heard him laugh a little, but didn't pause to look back. She was probably down to thirty minutes before he came, and Lennox had said to be at the landing hangar at least twenty minutes ahead for a quick briefing. She already had an idea of what about—being civil and on her best behavior; how to present herself; and so on. Marissa had done much the same the night before when getting her an outfit. Galloway was no doubt going to try and find any and every fault with her, so she would have to do her best to make sure he saw nothing. He was probably already still unhappy with her from all the rejections of sharing technology. He was a persistent bastard.

She hadn't really ever been to the landing hangar since she'd first arrived, but she knew where to find it, and made there in just a few minutes to find only Lennox and Marissa there. She expected that, though—the General was supposed to be arriving with Galloway since he was never even on Diego Garcia. He operated from Washington D.C., and so would be hitching a ride with Galloway here. She pitied her commanding officer, having to ride with the man, but Morshower was much more tolerable and level-headed than any of them, so she knew he could handle it.

"Cutting it a little close, soldier," Lennox hummed once she was close enough, giving her a quick look as he stood in his own blue Commander's suit with his arms clasped behind his back.

She kept a straight face, "My apologies, sir. I became engaged with an Autobot before reaching here."

"At ease," he said after a few moments, a small smile coming to his face. She allowed her shoulders to fall a little, but otherwise kept her hands at her side and her stance formal. Lennox released his own hands as well and faced her directly, as did Marissa.

"Alright, so you know how you're supposed to act. This is a diplomatic meeting and we don't need the President thinking we can't do our job and that you can't do yours."

"For the most part, we're going to be directing the situation. In fact, I'll be the one he's talking with the most since he'll taking up _my_ position," Marissa added, frowning a little as she did so. "You will need to talk to him eventually, however, such as explaining about the Autobots when we take him to the Command Center where Prime and First Lieutenant Jazz are waiting. I imagine he'll talk to you directly outside of there, asking a few questions and such, but beyond that you shouldn't need to converse with him too much."

"Well, just so you know—I do plan to treat him kindly while he's here," Catherine nodded, though let a flicker of a fox's smile appear. "And, of course, deny him anything he's not supposed to have."

"You've learned well," the brunette smiled, and moved a little so the redhead could come to stand between her and Lennox. Catherine gladly accepted, and silently wondered how the woman could stand wearing the formal skirt and heels—she'd only had to wear heels once in her life a long time ago and it was just _awful_. Yet another sign of how unwomanly she was, but, while she was a _little, tiny, teeny-weeny bit_ jealous of how much more better that made Marissa looked, she was okay with that. It was worth the teases her "family" gave her, too. Thankfully, the Autobots didn't understand the concepts of being "feminine" and "manly", so she was spared the humility from them.

"Oh—there's the transport. You see it?" Lennox spoke up suddenly, pointing out into the distance, and, squinting against the sunlight above them, she could just barely make out the black shape of the plane. It was the same one that had brought them—a helicopter would never be able to make the trip from the main land—and would reach them in about ten minutes now. They were earlier than expected.

"I imagine Galloway was anxious to get things over with," her teacher mused beside her, having noticed the early arrival time, too.

"I'd rather get things over with sooner than later," Lennox replied grimly, and the two women nodded in agreement. "I'd say we got nine minutes, so if you have any last words, say them now."

"Let's not piss him off, too?" Catherine grinned, and earned a few chuckles from the two adults before they lapsed into silence.

The redhead, despite her jokes and banner of confidence, felt a twinge on unease. As much as she disliked the man—she couldn't quite say hate, as she hardly knew him beyond his arrogant tone and demands—he was needed. He had been chosen by the President of the United States for some money-influenced reason no doubt, and he was the liaison to the very same country. He was, essentially, their connection to their main funds. Yes, many countries were joining and putting in some of their currency to help out, but the United States held the greatest share and power. The leaders knew it, too, and so stayed out of the political problems involved at NEST. In other words, if Galloway decided he didn't like them, it wouldn't take much to label them inept and shut them down without any problems—literally throwing the Autobots to the wolves. She couldn't allow that, and she wouldn't. Not if she could help it.

Of course, she would never suck up to the man, which she'd already proven that over the phone and through the letters. As Marissa had told her, she planned to only talk to him as needed. That way there would be fewer instances where they would come to conflict—which she knew they would—and it would be easier for her to control her temper. Oh, she knew she was nothing like her teacher and Commander when it came to reigning in her emotions in regards to the Autobots, but she could at least muster enough to not screw things up. She would just have to stay at the back of the pack and let the adults do the talking.

She smiled a little at that, recalling she was _technically_ an adult, too. Thankfully she looked the part of an adult figure, particularly with her formal clothes on, and so Galloway shouldn't suspect anything. It wouldn't look good on the Autobot's and _especially_ not on Lennox's part if it was discovered her papers were forged. She thanked whatever geek had done the dirty dead and done it well. She only wished Lennox would reveal their name to properly do so. Unfortunately, legal consequences prevented him from saying, but maybe one day she would find them.

"And here they come," Lennox murmured, again pulling her from her thoughts. Sure enough, the breeze picked up as soon as he said so thanks to the approaching aerial craft. The engine had the familiar drone from before, and she was incredibly glad she was not inside it this time as it landed. The jerk as they settled down made her wince a little. Her landing had been wonderful, but that one was undoubtedly going to make an unhappy United States liaison.

She guess right as the balding man—she silent snickered at that—stepped up with a disgruntled expression as he attempted to keep his formal political wear under control against the plane's engines and the island's breeze. Right behind him was General Morshower who was definitely more at ease with getting off, but his face betrayed the annoyance the other man had no doubt given him. All three waited patiently as the engines settled and both General and liaison stood before them, one happy to see them, and the other sizing them up—particularly the red head, who stood the shortest.

"Greetings, General, Galloway. It's good to see you made it safely," Lennox spoke up, saluting both men. Catherine and Marissa did the same, though remained silent as the General gave the sign to be at ease while Galloway felt entitled enough to smile as he glanced between them.

"Well, as much as I _enjoyed_ the ride here, I would much prefer if we got started. I do have some important business to see to back in D.C. after this," he spoke kindly, and Catherine had to work hard to not glare.

Marissa nodded, "Of course. If you would, just follow me and I'll explain your duties here. Oh, and Prime is waiting for you in the Control Hanger, General. We'll join you when we're ready."

General Morshower nodded once and headed off while Marissa acquired Galloway's attention, asking him to follow so they could begin. The man agreed, of course, and Lennox and Catherine followed behind him, keeping pace and listening in on the conversation. If need be, they would speak, but as long as they didn't need to, they wouldn't. Neither Commander nor Autobot liaison wanted to trade words—Lennox had thankfully not had the agony of such a thing—and were happy to let Marissa do all the civilized talking, and she was doing a damn good job of it.

Their little "tour" took them through the human side of the base, Marissa explaining about the rooms they came to and what his duties would be. Galloway went along with it as if it were second nature. His arrogance peaked again, as Catherine didn't miss how he seemed to brush of the woman's words of how to do certain things like they were insignificant. Yes, he was very knowledgeable in the field of liaising and no doubt had his own plans in mind, but things worked differently around here. The least he could do was pay attention in regards to what the norm was for soldiers and how they were meant to act around the Autobots.

Catherine couldn't help being irked whenever the Autobots came up, and it was because of the way the man seemed to scowl or sneer or have the smallest twitch of his lips whenever the word was spoken. It made it seem like he thought they were a _disease_ or something of the like, which was just ridiculous. She supposed maybe—just _maybe_ —he might have a reason to dislike the Autobots, but she couldn't think of any, and so to the redhead it looked like he was just being an egotistical, idiotic asshole. She didn't like it.

"And so what's that room down there?" the man inquired, gesturing to the open hangar door where a group of soldiers and a few Autobots could be seen moving about.

"Ah, that would be the Autobot-Human training room," Marissa replied. "It's where the human troops are trained to work with the Autobots and vice-verse. If you'd like, we can watch the session going on right now."

He waved her off, "No, thank-you. I also heard there's a combat-style session?"

"Yes. We have training sessions pitting groups against a single Autobot target to practice more live-like situations. Would you prefer to view that at the moment?"

"No thank-you. Good to know the training is doing well," Galloway nodded, and Catherine really did _not_ like the sound of his tone or the way he smiled when he said it. She couldn't fully explain why it did, but she could just sense the underlying dangerous tone.

"Then let us continue, shall we? As I was saying, you'll need to become acquainted with the various Autobots here. You don't need to know them personally—Catherine will do that instead—but you should learn the differences between them and their names."

"I suppose that would be helpful, and it's easy enough to tell the males from females," he sniffed, and the brunette frowned a little.

"Actually, they do not have 'males' and 'females'."

Galloway frowned this time, "Pardon?"

Catherine sighed softly as she spoke up, "Ratchet—their medic—has explained to me in depth in regards to the differences in their race."

The balding man turned to face the redhead, his eyes portraying the expression that he felt she was an upstart attempting to prove herself better than him. She honestly didn't need to prove it—she already knew she was just by the fact she wasn't a complete prick. She also knew to be careful even without Marissa's look.

"The Cybertronians do not have genders like we human do—they consists of _types_ , instead. For instance, Optimus Prime is a Mech, whereas ones like Elita-1, whom you might come to encounter, is a Femme, and Steeljaw is a Quadruped. Mechs are the sturdiest of the types, capable of great endurance and strength. Femmes are the perfect for swift strikes and skills due to their slimmer and lithe forms. Quadrupeds are the swiftest having four-legged mobility, and tend to have better movement. Again, while the differences between types may make it seem like the Cybertronians have genders, they do not."

"...Interesting," the man hummed, and he actually seemed genuinely interested. "Though, if they're just types, why do some have male voices and others female?"

"An excellent question, actually," Catherine began, smiling a little as she let herself get carried away with her knowledge bank. "Most of it is based upon their findings of our cultures. Obviously, males are considered the stronger of our genders and the more respected. Mechs are the strongest of the types when it comes to brute strength, and so a male voice would command a greater respect for that strength and make them seem more intimidating. Femmes, on the other hand, are a guardian faction of Cybertronians, meant to protect the younger forms of their kind, and since females are considered the care takers of children, Femmes have a feminine voice to appear as 'safe' to those they protect; in this case, humans."

"I see. Yes. That makes sense. You know quite a bit about these Cybertronians, don't you?" he mused, measuring the redhead, whose smile flattened a little as she nodded.

"As their liaison, I have taken it upon myself to learn their biology, so to speak, and their culture to better alleviate any problems that might arise due to conflicts in such things."

Galloway nodded once before Marissa returned his attention to her and continued their tour, Lennox and Catherine again filing in behind. However, this time they would not remain silent as Lennox moved every-so-slightly closer to the redhead, whom glanced up to give him the confirmation that she had noticed his obvious action.

"I see you've been using your time with the Autobots well," he mused, his eyes facing ahead.

She let a brief flicker of a smile appear, "Of course. You'd learn a lot too if you just ask—you don't even need to go to Ratchet. He would tell you, though, if you asked nicely."

"Yes, well, I think it's safe to say _no one_ but you will ever ask him for anything," he chuckled softly, and she joined him.

"He's actually gotten over that a little."

"I still wouldn't count on it."

She stifled her laugh as her Commander returned to his position and they took up listening to Marissa and Galloway again. Now that they'd gotten through the basics of how the soldiers acted—being allowed on both sides, but preferring to stay on the human; how technology wasn't to be shared; how humans were supposed to stay out of Ratchet's Medbay and why—and other small things, it was nearing time to meet up with the General. Since the man wasn't going to live on base as Marissa had, he wouldn't need to be informed of the daily routines of the soldiers, so that thankfully shaved off at least an hour from the near one-and-a-half they'd already spent. Unfortunately for Catherine, that meant she was going to have to talk with him a bit more so that he knew how to act around the superior Autobot officers. She was just brimming with joy at the idea.

"Catherine," the brunette called out, and the redhead held back her grimace as the moment came sooner than she would have liked. "We'll be heading to the Command Center now. Perhaps you could enlighten Mr. Galloway a bit more on the Autobots?"

She nodded as she strolled forward, "Of course. As you know, Optimus Prime is the Commander and leader of the Autobots. As such, he is addressed as 'Prime', which is the title of their leader. I'm sure you've seen him before?"

"Yes, yes. The big one with red and blue armor."

"That's Prime. He will be accompanied by his Second-in-Command, First Lieutenant Jazz as well—just a "heads up", if you will. Both are there to answer any questions you may have with them after introductions. After today, however, questions will need to be given to me as their liaison, and as such I will reply for Prime in turn unless his presence or any of the other Autobots are required in person."

"He must a busy, ah, mech, was it?" the man hummed, whatever workings in his mind running faster than Catherine liked.

"Yes, Prime is a mech, and, yes, he has been very busy as of late speaking with the countries' leaders over the alliance among other things."

His brow perked, "'Among other things'?"

"Well, he does help watch for Decepticon activity, after all," she spoke a little too quickly in an attempt to find something that would work well for Prime. Galloway hummed again, though nodded as he did so, apparently accepting it.

"Is there any particular way I should act around them? I wouldn't want to offend our allies," he inquired, and while Catherine let herself consider it a genuine question, she knew deep down it was a straight off attempt to mock her and her friends. She couldn't be happier he wasn't going to be living on base.

"In regards to rank status, Optimus Prime would be considered along the lines of a General, so it would be cordial to give him the same respect General Morshower receives, and First Lieutenant Jazz should receive the amount along the lines of, well, his title or someone of Commander Lennox's rank. Beyond respect, the Autobots have learned of and integrated enough with humans to have adapted themselves somewhat to our cultural views, and so you do not need to act out of the ordinary around them."

"I see. Should I be prepared for anything else, Ms. Wolf?"

"I believe that should be all you need," Catherine replied with a sweet smile, and as soon as Galloway looked away she glanced at Marissa, hoping they could continue moving. Thankfully the woman noticed, nodded, and got the liaison following her once more. The redhead breathed a small sigh of relief a she filed in beside Lennox, and then smiled lightly when he clapped her on the shoulder.

"Not bad. You're holding together well," he mused, giving her a confident grin.

She shrugged, "I was tempted to... well, I probably shouldn't say."

"Thankfully, it's almost done. Let's just get this meeting over with so we can start getting ready to head home."

Catherine nodded, and then they became silent once more as the brunette lead them the entrance of one of the larger hangars. The ends had their doors opened wide, allowing in much sunlight and giving away all that was within it. Computers lined the walls, and also stood at the center on a large platform requiring a staircase to reach where Optimus Prime stood between the "arms" of the platform. Jazz stood off to the side, glancing around though he kept most of his attention on the conversation going on between Prime and General Morshower who stood at the top of the platform behind a trio of soldiers at the computers. On the floor soldiers ran to and fro, some with papers to give to others stationed at computers, and some just moving from station to station or coming on and off breaks. Outside, planes and vehicles could be seen with more soldiers running around, initiating tests or getting to their posts.

While all the sights would be interesting to someone new, three of the four were accustomed, and Galloway was only interested in the two leaders of NEST's two races, so the marvel went relatively unnoticed. They, however, were not, and some soldiers paused to stand and salute if they were near. Others were too far away to notice or too busy, and so went about their day as the four approached the platform and ascended the stairs. Catherine would have gladly had Jazz or Prime lift her up as most of the soldiers had stopped being shocked or freaked out by the site, but she figured right now was not time for such things. She didn't need Galloway to find a way to use that against her, too.

"And now Prime, First Lieutenant Jazz, I'll let you get acquainted with the new liaison for our side of things," General Morshower finished, his voice dry and not bothering to hide the disdain he had for the balding man, whom smiled although he obviously heard. Galloway happily planted himself directly in front of Prime, fixing his glasses quickly before setting his hands onto his hips without any show of respect at all for the Autobot Commander. Catherine felt her brow twitch at the sight and wanted more than ever to swat him with her shoe, but she settled with an eye roll instead.

"Greetings, Theodore Galloway. I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, and this is my First Lieutenant Jazz. We are honored to be working with you," Optimus spoke as a true leader and diplomat, his tone revealing nothing if he felt any discord for the man at all. Galloway smiled with some amusement, but it was quickly replaced with a neutral expression.

"I look forward to it Optimus Prime, First Lieutenant, Jazz. Hopefully my being the liaison will allow things to go more smoothly between the United States and NEST now."

_Are you fucking kidding me_? Catherine all but screamed in her head, barely able to hold herself back. Marissa won more respect from the redhead for not socking the man across the face right then and there, her face stony passive; not betraying anything. It might have helped that the General did a little bit of it for her by shaking his head and murmuring of coarse words for the man. Even Lennox joined in, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, too.

"If there have been any troubles in communication, I give my sincerest apologies. I have been preoccupied with settling the arrangements, and, as such, have not always been able to observe all requests directly."

"Yes, I imagine dealing with that and the Decepticon threat of yours is a great deal to manage, although I've heard there's been little as of late."

Optimus nodded, "And we are thankful for it; the absence of the enemy has given this organization much time to grow."

"Hopefully we can work together to continue to help it grow then," Galloway smiled, and Catherine couldn't help but notice an odd glimmer in his eyes; a hidden agenda brimming with mal intent. It didn't take her long to realize he meant the sharing of technology _again_. Her temptation to throw something at him skyrocketed.

How _dare_ he come right up to _Optimus_ and hint at that! She could hardly believe the gall of the man! She didn't care what God damned reason he had for doing it or for disliking the Autobots—that was unacceptable! He knew the agreement very well, and she could handle his disrespect towards her in regards to it, but not Optimus.

"It is always our intention," the Autobot Commander nodded, and Catherine couldn't decide if he had noticed and not done anything about it like a badass or had missed it completely. "The General informed me you might have questions you wished to ask. If this is so, my First Lieutenant and I are at your disposal."

"I can't say I have too much to ask at the moment."

"Then, perhaps, we could offer you a tour of our side of the base? It might better acquaint you with our race."

He raised a hand up to stop him, "No, thank-you. I've done enough touring today, Prime."

"Then perhaps we should finish explaining your duties?" Marissa spoke up as she stepped forward. "I specifically saved some of them for this room in which most of your duty will take place."

"That sounds like a good idea. I had a few things to talk with you about myself, Galloway," General Morshower added, also stepping forward, though paused to look back at Catherine and Lennox. "You two will need to join as well."

Catherine mentally groaned, but kept a straight face as she and the Commander moved to join them. She would rather have had nothing more to do with it, and would have loved to just throw off her formal gear and run back to her room in her under-armor, but that would have been inappropriate and the _General_ had summoned her. She could only hope it wouldn't take too long.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Technically an hour wasn't all that long, but for Catherine it may as well have been fifty of them.

It wasn't really all that much different from the tour; the only difference was that Galloway was more of an ass than before. He had definitely let go of most of his civility and must have said "screw it" at some point in his mind. Needless to say, she wanted to sock him multiple times in the face and balls, but, instead, had been forced to suffer through talks of how they would be working together closely to keep relations with humans and Autobots on good terms and the exchange of information—specified to be on Decepticons, but she knew the man would go for technology at some point. There were finer points touched upon at the end of course, but she had hardly cared with her annoyance peaking. Thankfully, she could have Marissa send her a note or something. By God was she going to miss that woman!

"Jazz, is there any way you can make Galloway's death look like a horrible accident and not me murdering him?" Catherine sighed as she leaned against the mech's helmet, enjoying the cool feel to it. It sent a vibration through her head when he laughed.

"Sorry, shorty. _Technically_ I can do that, but ya know it'd look bad," he grinned and she groaned

"Couldn't you have just lied and said yes and that you'd love to do it? I really don't want to work with that jerk. I can't believe how disrespectful he was to you two!"

"It's gonna be alright, you'll see. Besides, ain't we headin' out ta ya new home in a few days? Ya won't have ta deal with this fo' a good few weeks 'o so."

She perked up at once and all the terrible, horrible thoughts of the man were sent flying away by the prospect of returning to the Lennox's farm and seeing Sarah and Annabelle and, most importantly of all, Sam.

"Yeeeesss! And I can't believe _you_ actually get to come this time! Granted, I guess it's 'cause Ironhide can't since he's going to be here training. Sideswipe's coming, too, so this is fantastic! My two favorite mechs get to come hang with me!" she laughed, doing a fist pump, though it was a little odd in her formal wear. Once she was back at her room, though, she could discard them and finally get into some comfortable clothes.

He laughed, "There ya go. Feelin' betta already. Yeah, 'ol Hide don't get ta come 'cause he gotta work on the troops n' all, but I don't think he mind too much with Chromia here n' all. She keeps the 'ol 'bot busy."

"Yeah, I guess that's... wait," she paused and then reared away with a raised brow. "Jazz—what the hell man? I don't need to know _that_!"

"I didn't say nothin', shorty. You da one who thought 'o _that_ , not me," he winked, and she sighed in exasperation. Jazz was always a sly one when it came to that. Or maybe she was just a sucker for it.

"Ugh, whatever. I'm still just glad I finally get a break and get to see Sam again! It's been so long, and I'm ready to have fun like the old days again!"

"Looks like ya two are still doin' well, yeah?" he smiled as he glanced over.

She nodded with a soft smile in return, "Yeah. You were right about giving him that chance, of course. Maybe I'm being optimistic, but I think we're better for it. Granted, we've only talked on the phone, so the real test will come up when we see each other, but I'm not worried. He promised, after all."

"'He promised' ya?" the mech inquired, and her smile widened.

"He promised he wouldn't leave, and I believe him. "

"I'm glad for ya then," he spoke softly, and then grinned. "Guess we betta make sure ya don't get into any trouble before then so ya can still go."

She laughed a little, "I'll do my best. Although with Sideswipe around its kind of hard."

"Oh, ya can leave that ta me. I'll make sure he behaves until ya go," Jazz snickered.

"Then we're all set. Let's just hurry and get my room so I can change and we can go have some fun. With Galloway gone home it's free reign now!"

"Well, let's not waste any more time, yeah?"

"Onward, my white-armored stallion! We have fun things to do!" she shouted with much glee and gusto, and he just laughed.

\----------------------------

**TMWolf:** _And there we have_ _Galloway's introduction. I, personally, have always found him to be a spiteful, arrogant, and rude man, especially to the Autobots, and so that how I plan to portray him for now._

_Anyways, as Catherine stated- Cybertronians do NOT have genders/sex- they have TYPES: Femmes, Mechs, and Quadrupeds. They don't have sexual organs, so they don't have any concept of it beyond the typical science explanation of sex/gender._

_In order to make this notion easier to understand for humans, Cybertronians pick a vocal range that best fits human understanding. Since Femmes have a role more similar to human females, they tend to pic feminine voices. Mechs' role is more similar to a male, so they go with masculine. Quadrupeds do whatever they want pretty pretty, as they're more an "animal" type._

_Also- let it be known: THE TYPES THING IS NOT CANON. THIS IS MY OWN CONCEPT. I just want people to know this so things don't get mixed up with what has been said, which is nothing, to be honest. While the Wikia does call them "female" Transformers, I don't think we can consider them "female" in the same sense we do since they are not organic species and do not have the same biological features that make someone "female". Again, these are my concepts, so you don't consider them fact outside of this story. However, in this story, this concept which will continue on throughout it._

_And so enough of the lesson~ It's time to go on vacation, and what's this? Sideswipe AND Jazz are coming? No way! :D Now we all know some fun stuff is going to go down!_

_Soooooo... Anyone else want to punch Galloway in the face? :)_


	35. Young Blood Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Naked and Famous - Young Blood. Some fun chapters ahead :))))

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“I won’t be coming with you to the Lennox’s ranch, so you’ll need to do the scans yourself, which is why you’re going to be taking this with you. Go ahead and press the button on the bottom,” Ratchet stated as he handed a human-sized contraption that reminded Catherine of a mixture between a datapad and a tablet for a computer. She did as told and pushed the centered button, and at once the screen lit up not unlike the one on his arm did. There were only two options, one saying “scan” and the other “transfer”. “To scan, just press the option that says so and aim the screen towards you—it will do the rest. Once the data is completed, which you’ll know because it’ll tell you, just hit transfer and the data will go directly to me.”

“Got it. Sounds easy enough,” Catherine nodded, pressing the same button to shut it off, and then stuffed it into the duffle bag she’d brought to NEST. “Hopefully nothing will go wrong while we’re gone for two weeks.”

“I believe the correct phrase would be to not ‘knock on wood’ or something like that?” Ratchet hummed, and the redhead grinned a little.

“More like don’t jinx it, but I get what you mean. I’ll make sure to do a scan this Sunday. Time zones are a bit different, so don’t get your gears in a bunch if I don’t send it in at the right time. I’ll have Teletraan and the other two with me—they’re sleeping in the bag right now, actually—so you can get in touch that way if you’d like.”

“I’ll probably be too busy to notice,” he replied, looking over at the mostly-completed machine behind him. It was in the shape of something that looked like it was supposed to come from a sci-fi movie; it had a circular base with two arches running up the sides that nearly touched at the center, but couldn’t fully make it. From those ends extended two prongs with wires running to them, like some the point of a laser beam gun.

“You and Jolt making a lot of progress on the converter then?” she inquired, and a smile formed on his face.

“Yes, actually. It’s nowhere near completion, but we managed to at least make a foundation that should work. Now we just have to get through the worst part,” he spoke, at first with much gusto, but then ended with a sigh. “This is where I _really_ wish Wheeljack or Perceptor were here. They would be able to figure out how to alter the particles in the metals in kliks!”

“You’re a medic, not a scientist, right?” she grinned, teasing him a little, and he snorted.

“Unfortunately. Now, get along, you. Your ride is waiting. I expect to hear you got plenty of rest and relaxation, too. It has not escaped my attention that your stress levels have increased lately.”

She laughed, “Alright, alright. I’ll see you when we get back, Ratchet. I’ll make sure to give Sideswipe as much hell as I can!”

“That’s our femme,” he smiled back, and nudged her towards the door once she’d turned around.

“Good luck and keep everyone safe!” she called back, waving as she slipped through the Medbay doors. Her grin from earlier widened and she nearly skipped down the halls. She was finally getting her break, and was going to see Sarah and Annabelle and Sam! Oh, it was a day of days today, and she didn’t care that she had to take an hours-long trip to get there! Besides, Lennox, Sideswipe, and Jazz would be joining her! It hadn’t take much more than the “for protection” excuse to give them the O.K. to come—particularly with the sudden Decepticon activity that occurred two weeks ago—and now they were all strapped into the transport plane and ready to go. All they were waiting on was for her to get there.

Luckily, all the Autobots knew and didn’t hold her up, although the Twins did try. However, Brawn and Springer were there and it was an easy thing for them to grab both by the scruff of their necks while they gave her a kind send off, and then took them for “training”. She could hear their groans and complaints all the way to the landing pad, where Lennox, her team, and a few other soldiers also going on their breaks stood waiting or were loading up. She grinned at the sight of “her” boys, and hurried over to accept the barrage of head-rubbings that turned her hair into a fine, love-filled mess.

“Alright, alright! Cut it out you guys!” she laughed as she swatted them away. “I’m only going to be gone for two weeks! And why isn’t Lennox getting this treatment?”

“Because I can punish them for it,” their Commander smirked, and she rolled her eyes.

Anthony draped an arm around her shoulders as he leaned against her, “And besides—it’s fun messing with you. I mean, you’re the kid of the group, so it’s only natural.”

“’Kid’? I am an _adult_ , thank-you very much! I’m certainly more mature than you, Anthony,” she barked back, poking him roughly in the gut. He feigned hurt as he lurched back, grabbing his stomach as if she’d punched him albeit with a grin.

“Hmm… She does have a point, guys,” David mused, rubbing his light-brown stubble. “I guess this means we have to start dogging on Italiano over here.”

“If by ‘dogging’ you mean 'beat him up' then I’m all for it,” Jackson grinned like a fox, and Anthony smirked back, lifted up his hands, and gestured for the Asian to come at him.

“Count me in,” Fig laughed. “I’ve been meaning to show _Don Juan_ over here my fists.”

“Aw, c’mon, guys,” the Italian laughed uneasily. “Now what have I done to deserve this?”

Epps clasped the man’s shoulder, “Aw, we just playing, brother. But don’t push it. We do like Catherine more than you.”

“Aww! Thanks, guys! I’m touched!” the redhead beamed, placing a hand over her heart.

“Aaaand I’d say we’ve had enough sappy talk,” their commander spoke up, clapping his hands together. “It’s time we got going Catherine—Sarah’s expecting us for dinner and we don’t want to be late.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” she cried out, strolling by him, but paused to turn and wave at her teammates. “See ya in two weeks, guys! I’ll be sure to give you all the juicy details!”

Lennox raised a brow at his men, “’Juicy details’?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about, Commander. Nothing at all,” Jackson purred.

“Does Catherine live close to you, Lennox?” Alexander spoke up, rubbing his shaven chin.

“Huh?” the brown-haired man inquired, having been preoccupied with attempting to force the truth from the Asian soldier.

“I was just curious—the way you said your wife would be expecting you _both_ … We knew you knew Catherine from after Mission City, but…”

“Oh. Well, she’s going to be staying with us,” he replied, frowning a little.

“What about her _familia_?” Fig asked next, frowning, too, but with curiosity instead.

“Commander Lennox!” a voice shouted, and the brunette man turned to see one of the pilots at the loading stairs. “It’s time to go!”

“Got it!” he shouted back, and then turned to his teammates again. “Look, don’t worry about. We’ll be back in two weeks, so don’t make a mess of things, alright? I don’t want the General thinking I can’t handle my own men.”

And with that he was gone, leaving the six men puzzled and curious as they glanced between each other and their Commander while he walked to the plane and ascended the stairs. The expression remained even when the plane took off and became a small, black dot in the distance, and would continue on for the weeks to come.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh sweet Jesus—I am _so_ glad we’re almost there!” Catherine sighed with overly exaggerated relief as she leaned back into Sideswipe’s leather seats. Besides her in the driver’s, Lennox did much the same, letting his arms hang loosely on the door frame and middle arm rest. With the windows tinted, he didn’t need to pretend to be driving, which he was grateful for.

“Tell me about it. I can’t wait to finally see my ladies again!” he grinned at her, and she nodded.

 _“I just can’t wait to finally transform—my gears are getting stiff!”_ Sideswipe complained, his voice filtering through the radio.

 _“Aww, cool ya engines, ‘Sides,”_ Jazz’s voice spoke up from the radio, too. As it turned out, multiple voices could be heard over their radios thanks to their comm. link systems. _“Ya didn’t have ta travel in ya transition form ta get here. When all ‘o us in Prime’s group first came ta Earth we had ta go millions of years in that form, so ya can shut ya processor.”_

Sideswipe snorted, _“Fine. Fine! Still not as bad as being in same ship as those two slagging idiots for vorns.”_

 _“Ya got meh there, kid. Ya still can’t complain, though,”_ the saboteur snickered.

 _“And I’m shutting you off now,”_ the silver mech hummed, turning of his comm. link—another feature the Autobots were capable of. Unfortunately for Sideswipe, he underestimated his opponent.

 _“I don’t think so, ‘Sides,”_ Jazz’s voice laughed, and the silver vehicle cursed. _“Ya can’t keep me out.”_

Catherine laughed aloud, “Oh, this is priceless. I am so glad we rode in you, ‘Sides. I don’t think we’d be hearing this otherwise!”

“Sorry if you feel left out, Jazz. There’s more room in here,” Lennox smiled a little, glancing into the rearview mirror to spot the white, blue-striped Pontiac solstice driving diligently behind them. Jazz had understood—his form was a little cramped due to its small size. While it suited his needs, the two humans had wanted leg room to relax after the rough ride home. There had been one too many instances of turbulence, and then the trip in the normal plane had been even more cramped, as they’d been forced to share a third seat. The crying toddlers hadn’t helped, either.

 _“S’all good, my man. It’s fun ta mess with ‘ol Swipers anyways,”_ the white-armored mech chuckled while “Swipers” grumbled incoherently.

“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss, Sideswipe. Soon you’ll be able to transform and stretch your legs. And this time Ironhide isn’t here to whoop your ass!”

“Ouch. Maybe you should lay off the insults, Catherine. He has feelings you know,” the brunette man winced, flashing a grin.

She grinned back, “I would, but that would be too easy. And he loves it, anyways, don’t you, sweetheart?”

 _“Who are you calling ‘sweetheart’?”_ he growled, and she laughed.

“As you can see, Lennox, he’s desperately in love with me!” she sighed with an exaggerated gesture, and the man bust out laughing.

 _“Slag you guys,”_ he grumbled and his radio went silent.

“Oh, wow, that was good,” the brunette spoke with between chuckles.

“Oh, wasn’t it? I figured I might as well do something with all those ‘Autobot boyfriend’ rumors,” she snickered.

“So I see. So I guess this means they’re true then?”

She rolled her eyes, “Great. Now you ruined it. No, Sideswipe is _not_ my boyfriend!”

 _“’Course he ain’t—not when ya got a mech like me around ya,”_ Jazz teased, and, had he been in robot form, Catherine was sure he would be winking.

“Oh no— _Jazz_ is your man?” Lennox ventured, looking at her with disbelief.

“No, no,” Catherine laughed, waving her hands to emphasize. “Jazz is my _brother._ He means that there is no way Sideswipe has a chance because he’d have to get through him first.”

 _“Please. Jazz couldn’t stop me,”_ the silver mech suddenly stated with a snort.

“Oh, ho! And he’s back! And are you proposing something, Sideswipe? Ready to confess your undying love for me?” the redhead purred, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Lennox snorted in attempt to hold back his laughter while he pressed his hands to his face. “The guys are going to _love_ this.”

She turned to stare hard at him, “Lennox, you do realize I’m kidding, right?”

When he didn’t answer, she pressed further, repeating the “right”. He pulled his hand away a bit to let her see his face, and then grinned before laughing again. She proceeded to swat at him and he defended the best he could as he laughed and laughed. She promptly ignored him for the rest of the drive along with everyone else. He got a kick out of it every time he saw her pout, and the cycle went on and on.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Welcome home” was the first thing out of Sarah Lennox’s mouth when her husband and Catherine stepped out of Sideswipe. Following that was the embrace of the two lovers, the expected returning-home kiss, and then much cooing from a father over the little baby she held in her arms. There was much delighted squealing, and then it was Catherine’s turn, and she was welcomed with just as much love, although no kiss, which she was quite alright with. Annabelle was just as delighted to see her, too, and happily tried to snatch her ponytail—finally allowed down for once—but was met with resistance. Regardless, the baby was content and giggled with such delight that all three could not help but be infected themselves.

“It’s good to be home,” Lennox said at last, holding all of them close by the shoulders and giving his wife a kiss on her cheek. She replied to the gesture by resting her head on his shoulders.

“It’s good to have you back, if only for two weeks,” the blonde woman smiled, and then took hold of red head’s hand. “ _Both_ of you.”

Catherine smiled, “I’m glad to be back. Although, I don’t know how I feel about all those chores I know Mr. Commander here is going to have me do.”

“Well, _now_ that you’ve mentioned them…” he began, trailing off a little, and received a jab from both women.

“I know all about what you had her do there during her training, Mister!” his wife scolded, jabbing her finger at his face next. “ _You_ are going to be making up for some of that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he sighed, but then laughed as he kissed her lovingly again. “How about we get settled in first, though?”

“And how about you start making up for your slacking by bringing the luggage in?” Sarah hummed, and the brunette man sighed as he released them and turned to Sideswipe’s waiting, open trunk. Since Jazz has already transformed and started stretching his legs, the silver mech was anxious to get going himself. Sarah then turned to Catherine with a smile and gestured with her head to follow.

“C’mon. I’ve got a nice surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” the redhead frowned, but the woman said nothing else as she led Catherine to the door.

“Just head down the hall and take the first left. I’m going to make sure my husband doesn’t slack off,” Sarah smiled as she let the redhead through the door before turning back. Catherine nodded and continued on, wondering what it could be. She certainly hadn’t expected any surprise from the family—the warm welcome was gift enough, so what could it be? She was apparently going to have to wait in the T.V. room, though, so maybe it had to do with something fun?

All her pondering stopped however, as she turned left through the door. In fact, most everything stopped—footsteps; breath; heart; head; everything. The world became silent and time stood still as she stared into the room, right at the lone figure standing at the center.

He was a little different. Not much, though, but she could still see it. He had grown some—he stood probably a few inches taller than her now. He had filled out a little, too; his arms had the look of muscle to them rather than just skin, bones, and some of his baby flab that had never wanted to leave. His clothes looked like they were actually in style instead of his usual geeky wear. The plaid suited him nicely, and stood out against the black shirt and blue jeans he wore with it. His face had become more masculine—more mature, or it could have just been the new air about him. She couldn’t explain how, but she could sense the confidence brimming from him, especially in his brown eyes. He wasn’t the scared teenaged boy from before, although the little boy curls in his hair were still there. He didn’t have any five-o-clock shadow, either, and, had she not been frozen, she might have laughed a little at that. In that moment, however, all she could do was stare at him standing there as if it wasn’t the least bit out of the ordinary.

“Hey, Catherine,” he called out, and she finally breathed again.

“Sam,” she whispered back, and he smiled lightly.

“Yeah. It’s me. Surprised, huh? I told you would find me waiting for you,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah,” she suddenly smiled as she nodded, her eyes starting to water a little, though she pushed it back. “Yeah, you did, Sam.”

“So, uh, how’s it… uh... How’s it been? I know we’ve been talking on the phone, but, y’know,” he continued, grinning sheepishly now. “Oh, uh, I guess, uh, you could sit or whatever. I mean, Mrs. Lennox said so or whatever. Ummm…”

She nodded again and sat on the couch, and he did the same, though sat on the opposite end. She tucked her feet underneath her while he leaned back comfortably, and both knew the other looked awkward.

“Not bad, I guess. I mean, the whole Allspark thing is getting funky sometimes and then there's Galloway, but it’s good besides that,” she replied, brushing a bang back behind her ear. “How about you?”

“Well, um, the ride was longer than I thought, but, uh, life’s pretty good, I guess. Finally didn’t have homework this week, and Mom and Dad finally got off my case for not forcing you to stay with us,” he stated, chuckling at the last part, and she did the same.

“Well, I’m going to be here for two weeks, so I can definitely come visit. I do miss your mom’s brownies.”

“I’ll let them know then. They’ll be happy. It’d be fun to have you over again, too.”

Silence set in at once, and both looked at each other for a moment before looking at everything but one another. Catherine’s mind went off at a million miles an hour as she thought of something _—anything_ to say, but she couldn't, which was both hilarious and frustrating. She occasionally glanced over at Sam, and at one point she caught him glancing at her, but then they both immediately looked away. It was silly; stupid, even, but it couldn’t be helped. She just couldn’t stop herself from finding everything except for the young man so interesting. Of course, that interest only lasted for maybe five seconds before she would glance back at him, but still nothing would come to mind.

She could hear Sarah and Lennox bustling about in the background, but the woman must have planned this—how could she have not—and so the two adults and one baby were keeping away from them; giving them plenty of time to not say anything; giving them plenty of time to be awkward. That is, until Sam coughed, and she looked over to find him rubbing his neck.

“So… um… do you wanna see that surprise I was talking about?” he smiled lightly. She stared for a few moments before a grin stretched across her face and she nodded. His unease turned into a gentle smile as he stood. He held out his hand and she let him pull her up, and then let go as if it were some small form of taboo. Their smiles remained as he urged her to follow, and then he led them through the kitchen to the backdoor, out into the backyard. She frowned at that point, wondering what on Earth he was talking about, but her questions were answered when he called out to a familiar yellow Autobot. Said Autobot emerged from around the horse barn and immediately lit up at the sight of them both; door wings arching up, and a happy burst of clicks coming from his audio processor.

“’Bee! Wait—is your voice box broken again?” she questioned, eyebrow raised both in confusion and concern.

“Naw, he just likes to use songs or the clicking,” Sam chuckled as he glanced over.

“So… is _he_ my surprise?” she mused, gesturing up at the Autobot. “Now that I’m complaining—‘Bee is a _great_ surprise.”

Sam laughed this time, “No, no. Not ‘Bee. Hey! I need to get the ‘surprise’ out!”

 _“Aye, aye captain! I do love surprises!”_ the yellow-and-black Autobot’s radio blared, eliciting a laugh from the redhead while he transformed. She’d almost forgotten how sweet his alternate form was, and so she gazed with awe at the sight of the muscle car, painted golden-yellow with black racing stripes. Sam, accustomed to his robotic friend’s amazing form, strolled casually over to the vehicle’s trunk, which opened before he even touched it. Catherine stayed where she was, watching as the young man pulled a cardboard box from the back of it, still intact despite the transformation process—a nifty trick of the subspace, she knew. Eyebrow raised, she moseyed on over when he gestured her for to do so, and kept it raised as he grinned like a goof at her.

“Take a look,” he said, motioning at it, and moved aside to let her stand right in front of it. She gave him a quick look before opening the panels, and her mouth dropped at the sight.

“My—my things!” she gasped, grabbing the item on top. It happened to be a puppy-sized stuffed wolf, which she promptly squeezed close to her chest. She heard the young man besides her laugh a little, but she ignored him as she tucked the toy beneath her arm and shuffled through the rest. She found some of her favorite video games first, for both her PSP and Gameboy, and then she found most, if not all—she lost count of them all a long time ago—her sketchpads along with many other papers covered in scribbles that she had kept for years now. She also found a few other of her favorite books and CD’s, and many other trinkets that she had always considered dear to her and only ever confessed such secrets to Sam.

“Oh God… Sam… How did you—my parents moved, though. I figured—I figured they sold all this or something!” she spoke, looking at him with wide eyes and her stuffed wolf held closer.

He grinned mischievously, “Well, I did know where the spare key was hidden, so when I heard they were leaving I snuck in one time they were out and got it all together. I would’ve taken the whole room if I could, but they would’ve figured something was up, y’know? I thought about saving your dogs, too, but Mojo would have had a fit, and, well, you know my parents don’t like big dogs. Still regret not taking Bandit, anyways. He was always my favorite.”

She said nothing for a few moments as she turned back to her things, shuffling through them again slowly. She set the wolf down next, and then, to his surprise, latched herself onto him. She wrapped her arms tight, pressing her head into his shirt. At first, he could only stare dumbly, but then he wrapped his arms around her, too.

“God, I missed you, Sam,” she mumbled into his chest, but he heard it perfectly.

“I missed you, too, Catherine,” he murmured back, and they held each other there, not wanting to let go. It had been too long— _far_ too long since they’d been able to see each other. It had been too long since they could be friends like this again.

She felt him shift a little, and then he pushed her back albeit with the mischievous grin back on his face.

“Hey—you want to go do something fun?” he asked, and it only took her a moment to grin.

“Hell yeah. But let me go tell Lennox and Sarah first,” she replied, and they laughed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _AND SO BEGINS THEIR HAPPY REUNION! :D Sarah is happy to have her back, as always, and Sam was already there to surprise her while 'Bee hid like a good little Autobot~ T_ _he kids are going to have fun. Jazz is such a tease, as always. The boyfriend jokes are finally going to calm down. Sideswipe is so easy to get back at and put him down ;) And 'Bee is always cute. :D_


	36. Young Blood Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same song xD
> 
> More fun
> 
> and some answers revealed that only cause more questions ;)

\-------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a long time since she’d ridden with Sam in Bumblebee’s vehicle form, and back then it had not been on the best terms. If she recalled correctly, it was after Miles had left and they—meaning Sam, Mikaela, and her—were going to hang out at Burger King or something. She had, as it had become custom, been forced into the back where only Bumblebee’s seatbelt was her company while the two love birds sat in the front flirting their little buns off. She, of course, had been ignored unless something needed to be asked, and it had all in all been an unfortunate and unhappy experience for her.

This time, however, was definitely not that.

For one, the dark-haired girl was not in their presence at all, and Catherine was situated in the front seat where she and Sam sat comfortably as they banged their heads to the badass rock song Bumblebee had chosen for them. Smiles were all around as they laughed every so often while singing along poorly to the lyrics, though they may as well have been Grammy winners in their duet. Whatever the case, there was nothing better than the joy they felt as Bumblebee tore down the roads, no destination in mind but the horizon.

They would have to be back by at least midnight, though—Sarah’s orders—which meant they had about six hours to have fun, and they were going to make sure they had it. The woman had been a little sore about the redhead missing dinner, but evidently Sam had explained a little bit of their situation, because she quickly laughed it off and let them go. Catherine felt kind of bad for that, and also for the little moment where she could have sworn she saw Sideswipe frown, but she ended up forgetting it once the tunes started and Sam had her joining in with singing. Tonight was her night, after all—it was time to forget her worries and enjoy her time with her best friend.

_“Forgive my interruption, but I do believe I’ve found the perfect place for you to have fun,”_ the Autobot’s proper, British voice rang from the radio, and both humans perked up.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Sam asked for them both.

_“An amusement park thirty minutes away.”_

The two humans exchanged excited looks before Catherine frowned, “But wait—what about you, ‘Bee? You can’t transform around all those people.”

_“Do not worry—Sam has been eager to spend time with you for months now. I only wish for you two to have fun and reconcile.”_

“Aww, ‘Bee, you’re embarrassing me, man,” the young man chuckled, his ears turning a light shade of red as he rubbed the back of his head.

“You’re too sweet sometimes, Bumblebee. I’ll be sure to spend quality time with you on the ranch when you visit again,” the redhead smiled, patting the dashboard, which thrummed at her touch.

_“I look forward to it.”_

With that, the tunes started up again, and both young adults began to sing and dance as best as they could to the hip hop song that now played instead of rock. Even if someone could see them through the tinted windows of the car, it wouldn’t have mattered—they would have just laughed and danced more. When the song ended so did their antics as they collapsed back into their seats, laughing even harder.

“I… I didn’t know you were the dancing type,” the young man snickered, and the redhead held her head high.

“Well, you just never asked me to dance! Although I don’t think flailing my arms randomly counts as dancing,” she grinned back.

“Ah, well, now a-days, I think it does. I mean, have you seen the music video for this song? He just pelvic thrusts and they call it ‘dancing’!” Sam chuckled

“Ah. Well, I do believe my arm-flailing is much better, then.”

He rubbed his chin as if he had a mustache, “Hmm, indeed. It was quite satisfactory.”

“Is that so? Well I mustache you another question then, sir,” she giggled.

“Go on, madam.”

“Do we even have any money for the park?”

Sam opened his mouth, but then frowned, “Huh. Umm…”

He was cut off as Bumblebee’s glove compartment opened, revealing a brown leather wallet. Both exchanged a glance before the redhead pulled it out, opened it, and found an amount of money that would suit their needs for a fun night at the amusement park or even more.

“Whoa—Sam do you have a job now or something that you haven’t been telling me about?” she grinned, rummaging through the bills.

“No, that’s, uh, that’s actually my Dad’s. When did he give that to you?” Sam frowned as he stared at the vehicle’s radio.

_“He came before you woke and entrusted me with his wallet. He assumed you would wish to go somewhere with Catherine and so gave a suitable amount,”_ the Autobot replied and, after a short pause, continued. _“Although he seemed adamant about Catherine handling the money and not you, Samuel.”_

The redhead snorted as she attempted to hold back her laugh, “Aww! Mr. Witwicky knows you so well! He can rest assured _I_ will not spend him money so carelessly unlike Mr. loose-change over here.”

“He just won’t let that _one_ time go!” Sam groaned, letting his head fall back against the seat.

“Well, you _did_ manage to spend about a hundred bucks on video games when he wasn’t looking. I think he’s in the right to not let you handle his money,” she smirked and he huffed in defeated defiance.

“Those game were worth the weeks of grounding and no allowance, though,” he mumbled, and she laughed as she stuffed the wallet into her pocket.

“Alright, ‘Bee. How long ‘till we get to the fun now?” she asked, settling back into her seat.

_“Approximately twenty-two minutes,”_ was the prompt reply.

“Then turn up those tunes! I think the crowd’s asking for an encore!” she whooped and, the moment the music started blaring, she nudged Sam, and soon both were making their singing debut once again.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright we’re in!” Catherine shouted joyfully as she hopped through the entrance gates, Sam trotting right behind her.

He caught up and leaned on her shoulder, “So, what should we do first?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, rubbing her chin as she glanced around. The rides all looked so enticing with their bright lights, screams of excited children and adults and teens, the roar of the rides, and the intoxicating aroma of fun yet to be had. It would have been impossible to choose if it was only for one ride, but both had decided right off the bat they would go on as many rides as they bloody well wanted, seeing as they had more than enough cash for that. The only problem was deciding which one first, but Catherine had a pretty good idea.

“Roller coaster. Right now.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he grinned, and took off at a jog, which left her laughing as she quickly caught up. She half-tackled his right side, causing him to tumble a bit, but then he recovered and they continued on, playfully shoving each other back and forth. It eventually ended not only with their getting into the line, but also by Catherine being cruel and putting Sam into a head lock, forcing him to pretend to be deadweight so she’d let him go so as to not have to deal with it. It worked, and the two spent their time in the line noting on her increased strength and his not-so-increased strength. From there, he meant to inquire about her work, but that ended up being stopped when she reminded him she wasn’t supposed to talk about it. She promised—with a grin—to give him details at the ranch whenever he came over, though.

Of course, all talking ended once the park worker let them through, and they quickly rushed to the front car, which they’d always considered the best spot. Then the fun began, and they screamed and whooped louder than was necessary, throwing their arms in the air and waving them around, and laughing like little kids again. Catherine couldn’t remember the last time she’d ridden on a roller coaster—especially with Sam—and she could only wish she had done it sooner. It was thrilling to feel the rush of the wind, the pumping of fresh adrenaline with each turn and drop, and just the joy of being there with the young man.

Even when the ride ended the joy continued, mixed with their gasps for air as they continued to laugh off the rush of young blood flooding through their veins. Unfortunately, that blood wasn’t going to get a break, as the redhead quickly pointed out another ride and they rushed off. The night was young, and so were they, which meant no ride was going to be safe from the duo as they ran amuck the amusement park, taking the best seats they could and hollering loud enough that Bumblebee began to worry and even called up Sam’s phone. That had been a good laugh when they reassured him they were fine.

It was a shame there weren’t more rides—they would have spared the others a second round for the two as they continued on their fun rampage. If anyone looked at them odd, they just laughed. If anyone laughed with them, they happily accepted the person. They were living the moment, and the moment was glorious as the night went on. Although the thrill of the actual rides died down, the two found amusement with blowing their cash on the small park games, which were always harder than they seemed and an infinite source of frustration. However, Catherine proved her prowess in the shooting game and won a large-sized husky, which she happily flaunted in front of Sam, whose aim was drastically poor in comparison. She happily informed it was because she had practice and that she _might_ give him a few lessons whenever he visited.

Thankfully for Sam’s man-factor, he dominated the redhead at the ring toss and ball game, winning himself two medium-stuffed bears—one a panda; the other a normal brown one—and flaunted them just as happily in front of her. Things quickly escalated into why the other’s was better, leading them to getting food in the process and threatening to dunk one another’s prizes into their condiments, though it never did come to that. There was an instance of French fry flinging, but it ended when one projectile hit an innocent bystander whom threw it back angrily. While the two got a wonderful laugh out of it, they decided it was best to put it to an end and finish eating like normal, civilized people, and instead wonder what ride to go on next or if they should go home.

In the end, they decided to take the one, non-exciting ride they had decided to not take earlier due to its lack of fun: the Ferris wheel. They brought their toys with them of course, which got a prime spot on the floor while they leaned back into the seat and rested their arms on the safety bar.

“Oh, man, Sammy-boy,” Catherine sighed as they started moving upwards, giving them a fantastic view of the amusement park and the flat lands stretching towards the horizon until it hit a short tree line. There were a few lights in the distance—headlight from cars—and they were joined by the moon, which shone bright in its full stage. Stars were blinded out, unfortunately, but the large, celestial object did just fine. “This has got to be the best night of my life.”

He chuckled, “I gotta agree. Tonight’s been pretty freakin’ awesome! It’s even better than old times!”

“Well, our parents didn’t let us go off whenever we wanted during the old times,” she hummed, folding her arms.

“Oh yeah… It didn’t help we didn’t have a car. Especially not an _Autobot_ car,” he grinned, his gaze wandering to the parking lot where he could just barely make out the dimly illuminated shape of the familiar Camaro.

“So true… Oh, now that I think about it, that night we met with the Autobots was probably one of the best ones, too.”

He raised a brow, “You mean the night where you nearly died twice, and then nearly died a third time the next day, and then got infected with the Allspark power and I was an asshole?”

She paused, “Okay. So I didn’t think that sentence through. I meant it was awesome because we met the Autobots. Also, I was not _infected_ , thank-you-very-much, Sam! I was _infused_ with the Allspark power. Not that’s it’s doing much good these days.”

“What’s up?” he inquired as she huffed with a pout.

“Ugh, it’s all sorts of crap,” she sighed, letting her head tilt to the side. “I mean, I can heal wounds just fine and alter Earth metal so it’s Cybertronian, apparently, and I even made a spark—Steeljaw, you remember? But I can’t make a normal Cybertronian one without killing someone else, excluding the fact I can’t even do anything anymore with Barricade around, so it’s like—what’s the point? I want to help, but I can’t!”

“Well… I mean, I don’t know anything about the Allspark, but I know you’ll figure it out soon enough. I mean, you’re _Catherine_ , and if I know my best friend, then you’ll have this down in no time. You were always the smart one, anyways.”

She smiled as she laughed a little, “Thanks, Sam. Yeah, hopefully. I’ve read pretty much everything about sparks, but it’s like something’s still missing, y’know? Like you know the answer to the problem, but you’re missing one thing? _Ugh._ It’s all so complicated. But it’s not so bad. I get to hang out with all the Autobots and then Lennox and the guys, and the human soldiers are getting better with everyone—er, by that I mean the Autobots and me, I guess.”

“That’s good. Makes me almost wish I was there, but not really. I couldn’t cut it as a soldier, I think,” Sam sighed, leaning back more, and Catherine looked over at him as she leaned forward on her arms.

“Why not? You’re brave, and you’ve got some decent physical skills. You took the Allspark in Mission City and faced Megatron, too. You’ve already got more balls than a lot of the NEST soldiers,” she grinned, and got a small chuckle from him.

“Yeah, but that was a spur of the moment, y’know? And you were the one who came charging in to save my ass while I just ended up there from running away. _You’re_ the brave one, Catherine. Me? I’m just the kid that got lucky and happened to have the bravest, most amazing best friend ever.”

“Sam,” she began, and her tone caught his attention. “Look, you might not be a soldier like Lennox, or the ‘bravest, most amazing best friend ever’—love the compliment, by the way— like me, but you _are_ brave, and you’ve got something a lot of people—even me—don’t have. I can’t name it. I’m not even sure there is a name _for_ it, but whatever it is, you have it. It’s what makes you special. It's what makes you, well, _you_ and not just a kid who got lucky. So don’t put yourself out, Sammy. I wouldn’t be your best friend if you weren’t as awesome as whatever you are.”

Sam kept her gaze for a good long while, the only sounds coming from the laughter below and the creek of the Ferris wheel gears behind them. She stared back, and, slowly, a warm smile crept onto his face, and it was mirrored on hers. He finally let out a soft chuckle and let his eyes gaze outwards while the redhead leaned back, grinning.

“Thanks, Catherine,” he spoke, and his hand ever so-slightly twitched towards hers, but hesitated and remained on his lap. Her grin softened to a smile and she grabbed his hand, locking her fingers around his, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“No problem,” she replied, and smiled a bit more when she felt him return the grip. They let things become silent once more then, but only for a minute as the young man spoke up again.

“So, you know, we’re best friends, and this should feel kind of awkward especially since I have a girlfriend in all, but it doesn’t. Weird,” he stated, and Catherine snorted as she held back a laugh and leaned back up..

“Sam, you are my best friend, which automatically makes you my pillow. Also, it is _perfectly_ alright for best friend of different sex to hold hands without being girlfriend-boyfriend. Besides, it’s like I said—I want a man with stubble, and since you can’t grow any…”

“Oh, shut up!” he laughed, shoving her away, and she laughed with him. “More like you want a robot!”

“Sam!” she shrieked, swatting at him. “Stop with the Autobot-boyfriend thing already! Do you even realize how much I get it back at the base, let alone from just Lennox?!”

“Fifty bucks says it happens.”

“How about fifty bucks says I kick your ass? I could do it before, and can damn well for sure do it now.”

“You still owe me fifty bucks when it happens. Seventy-five if it’s Sideswipe.”

Catherine just groaned and was so glad the Ferris wheel ride was over, letting her quickly bail out with her toy dog, ignoring Sam’s calls and laughter at her expense. Thankfully, it was close enough to midnight that Bumblebee gave them a call to say time to go. She happy agreed and took the lead, the young man following close behind to tease her as much as he could despite her attempts to thwart him. Bumblebee didn’t help either, as he became curious as they took off back to the ranch, and Sam happily told the Autobot all about it. While he didn’t understand completely, he found the thought of a human “love” relationship shared between a human and Cybertronian intriguing and a little funny. It was better than being teased, but it was still somewhat mortifying to know another Autobot besides Jazz and Sideswipe knew the joke. She had gone to great lengths to keep it away from other Autobot audio receptors, but of course _Sam_ would be the one to destroy all her attempts.

Her friend was feeling merciful, however, or rather, was forced into being so as due to a delayed toll of exhaustion that now consumed them. Yawns followed within a few minutes into the ride back, keeping conversation to a minimum, yet enough to keep them awake. It wasn’t anything exciting, of course—mostly questions of when or where they should met up again. Catherine made sure to promise that she would come over to his house and see his parents and have dinner with them, and he promised to come out again and spend time on the ranch. When the concept of Mikaela came up, Sam told her now to worry about what the dark-haired might think; she was busy with her Aunt getting things ready for her Dad being released from prison, so she hadn’t been around. Even if she wasn’t, the young man was confident his girlfriend would understand, and though the redhead was not quite so certain, she let it be with a happy nod.

It was around then that Bumblebee pulled into the long, dirt road leading to the Lennox’s home, where the dim glow of lights could be seen from the windows. Catherine suspected it was from the kitchen, and surmised the adults were in bed, so took extra special care to be quiet, as that undoubtedly meant Annabelle was sleeping, too. Sam understood, as did Bumblebee, whom took it upon himself to lower his engine’s volume to a purr while Sam sat with her on the Autobot’s hood.

“I’m still a little surprised your Dad let you go so late on a school night—especially a Thursday school night,” she grinned, resting her head on the top of her stuffed dog.

“Well, they knew how important this was, and I promised I wouldn’t fall asleep in class, too,” he grinned, leaning back on his hands for a prop.

“They’re becoming rather lenient compared to what I remember,” the redhead hummed, and Sam shrugged.

“I figure it’s because my grades have improved a lot. I’m glad for it whatever the case,” he smiled and then leaned forward to clap his hands. “So! I will see you Saturday for a long day of quality-friendship time, right?”

She laughed, “That’s the plan! If we’re lucky, I can persuade Sarah to force Lennox into letting us ride the horses.”

“Ooh, nice. Although, I’ve never ridden before,” he mused, rubbing his chin uneasily.

“It’s not as hard as you think,” she replied, clapping his shoulder. “And the horses are nice, so it’ll be fun. I’ll teach you how to shoot, too. Oh, and you’ve got to meet my three little drone-a-teers.”

He raised a brow, “’Drone-a-teers’?”

“Like ‘Three musketeers’, only, it’s my drones—Teletraan, Cybermon, and Blaster.”

“Oh yeah. That sounds cool. Man, sometimes I still can’t believe you _made_ them!”

“Same here. It’s all crazy, man. Oh, and since we’re not on base I can give more of the crazy details, but only if you swear to secrecy! I’ll have to kill you if you tell anyone else, you know,” she barked, jabbing a finger at him, and he laughed as he pushed it away.

“Alright, alright. I swear! How about I have ‘Bee make sure? Like, uh, he can prank me or something?”

She hummed again, “That might work. What do you think, ‘Bee? Are you up for pranking Sam and thus humiliating him beyond belief should he break his code of secrecy?”

_“Aye, aye, Captain! I won’t let you down!”_ his radio chimed, and both laughed. They then paused for an odd moment before Sam pushed off, rubbing the back of his head. She didn’t need for him to say anything to know it was time to get going. He had to get up in about six or seven hours for school, anyways, and she had to do the same for breakfast and maybe a few chores.

Catherine smiled warmly as she set her dog down, slipped off Bumblebee’s hood, and embraced the young man with a strong hug. He returned it at once, wrapping his arms tight around her.

“It’s good to have you back, ‘Cat,” he whispered softly, and her smile deepened.

“You, too, Sammy.”

He pulled away, though kept his hands on her arms, “I really am sorry for all the shit I put you through. I still plan to make up for it, by the way.”

“Well, you’re doing a damn good job so far, although I forgave you a long time ago,” she replied. “Just don’t do it ever again, because I will kill you next time, whether ‘Bee likes it or not.”

“Oh, so it doesn’t matters if _I_ like it or not?” he inquired with a smirk, and she snorted.

“Of course not! And ‘Bee’s your keeper, so it’s only natural I defer to him.”

“He’s my _friend_ —not keeper,” the young man huffed, putting his hands on his hips.

“Please. He totes you around and keeps your ass safe. He’s your keeper,” she grinned, putting her hands on her hips, too. The two stared each other down, although there were no glares or looming involved, and it only lasted a few seconds before they both laughed. They embraced once more, though not as long or as deep, and then he handed her the stuffed dog before slipping into Bumblebee’s front seat. She waved when he did and stood in the front yard, watching until the Camaro was on the street, driving around the corner, and out of sight. Only then did she finally turn away, smile bright on her face, and walk into the house, eager for the next day.

She never noticed the shadowed, silver figure hidden slightly behind the horse barn that had watched the event silently. He moved now that the redhead had entered into the building, though. The blue glow of his optics stared in the direction Bumblebee had gone, a frown was across his face plates in a mixture of frustration, something else, and confusion for that something else. He couldn’t name it, nor explain it beyond that it felt like an odd tug on his spark; one that made his engines rumble uneasily. It made him dislike the human male for no real reason, and that annoyed him. Still, he could not settle it, and so spun on his wheels, and began to roll off.

_“Hold it right there, Sideswipe,”_ a cool, low voice almost at a growl, spoken in his native tongue, rang out from the darkness, and the shadowed figure—now dim silver in the moonlight—turned to face the white-armored mech.

_“What do you want, Jazz?”_ Sideswipe sighed, optics narrowing slightly.

_“I’m only going ta warn ya one—don’t hurt her again,”_ the mech stated firmly, optics glowing dangerously in the darkness. _“I saw ya back there, and I know what ya thinking.”_

Sideswipe scowled, _“What are you talking about?”_

_“Ya know full well. Don’t touch the kid.”_

_“I wasn’t—won’t!”_ the silver mech barked, but then restrained himself when the white mech’s stance tightened. _“I wouldn’t. She needs him. I wouldn’t do something like to her.”_

_“Are ya sure? Ya hurt her before. Ya could do it again._ ”

Sideswipe’s optics flashed, _“That was a mistake! It won’t happen again! And I don’t have to explain my reasons to you, so back off!”_

_“What are ya going ta do when Sunstreaker arrives?”_ Jazz pressed, and the mech flinched at the name before his optics narrowed again. _“Isn’t she just a replacement fo’ him? Will ya throw her away once he comes?”_

_“Watch it, Jazz. You may be my commanding officer, but there are limits_ ,” Sideswipe growled. _“And I won’t abandon her. She’s not a replacement.”_

The white-armored mech’s stance relaxed a little, _“Then what is she ta ya?”_

_“…I.. I don’t know, but she’s important to me. What do you care? You supposed to be her sparkmate or something?”_ the silver mech snorted, and to his surprise, Jazz didn’t answer right away, but rather looked off into the distance.

“ _Before—in the beginning, I considered it_ ,” he finally said, and looked back to the silver mech. _“But she needs me as her big brother and guardian, so that’s what I’ll be, and I’ll do whatever I have ta in order ta keep her safe.”_

Sideswipe was quiet for a few moments then, his processing whirring fast as he tried to understand the odd vibe to the mech before him.

_“…You’ve… changed, Jazz_ ,” was all he managed to say, and to his surprise yet again, the mech grinned slightly before his face became passive once more.

_“Offlining does that ta a mech_ ,” he said, and then turned around to face the other way. _“Heed my warnin’ Sideswipe. Ya hurt her, and I’ll make sure ya never speak ta her again.”_

With that, the white mech was gone, and Sideswipe stood in his spot, processor still running a million miles an hour. There were so many questions with too few answers, and each passing moment only made more questions that would go unanswered as he stood there and even when he finally settled into an uneasy recharge.

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**TMWolf:** _. YEAH. How's that for a teaser into the mental workings of the Jazz mech? Are any of you curious yet? Any theories? ;) Well, I can tell you there's a lot to his part, but it's going to be a LONG time before I give any straight answers :D Oh, and so how about that Sideswipe-jealousy teaser? Hopefully I'm satiating some romance-loving peeps. If not this one, then definitely next or the one after. I forget which, lol~ xD_

_So, part of the importance of this chapter and a major theme I wanted to show was friendship. Sam and Catherine are ONLY friends. They have no attraction to each other (anymore) or any romantic feelings. They're just friends- family, even. I also wanted to show a bit of how Sam's going to turn out. I, personally, did not like how he ended up as a character in DOTM. He came off as a brat, and I plan to make him a MUCH better person. So keep an eye out for this kid. He's a major part of 'Cat's life, and he's just getting started back into it. And he's going to be seventy-five bucks richer in the future. :P_


	37. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks

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“I see you had a good time last night,” Sarah Lennox grinned, a twinkle in her eye while she wipes baby food from Annabelle's mouth. She then picked up a plate next to her and spooned scrambled eggs onto it before handing it over to the welcoming hands of the redhead, whose face was lit brightly with a smile. Catherine gave loving thanks as she sat down and took her first bite. As usual, the blonde-haired woman was the embodiment of perfection when it came to cooking.

“Yes, I did, actually. More so than I’ve had in a very long time,” she laughed, taking another bite. “Sorry I missed dinner by the way. You know I always love your cooking—it’s the best.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Although, I was hoping maybe Sam was your boyfriend. Oh, don't give me that face—Sam explained things and I’m happy you two finally made up. He didn’t say what exactly happened, but it seems like things are alright, so I suppose it doesn’t matter all that much anymore,” the older woman hummed, shuffling the last of the eggs onto the other plate and picking up her own fork.

Catherine nodded with a mischievous look to her eyes, “Yeah. I’ve forgiven him, but if he plans to make it up, I don’t plan on stopping him. Oh, by the way, is it okay if he comes tomorrow?”

“Sure! He’s welcome here any time he wants. A friend of yours is a friend of ours.”

“Thanks!” the redhead laughed, but paused as she glanced around, noticing the absence of a certain father figure. “Where’s Lennox, by the way? I figured he’d be eating with us.”

“Ah. Well, someone has to take care of the horses, and it’s not going to be you or his cousin who’s off for the break, so that leaves my husband. He’s to make up for when you were last here, anyways.”

The redhead snickered, “Sweet revenge! Don’t be too hard on him. This is his break, too, after all.”

“Oh, I know. He always finishes up pretty early, and we figured we might go out shopping around lunch.”

“Nice. Wait—how about you guys go on a date or something?” Catherine spoke up, and Sarah looked at her curiously. “Yeah! You and Lennox should go out to a fancy place tonight. I’ll look after Annabelle and everything! I’ve taken care of three of the most annoying dogs ever, so she shouldn’t be too hard. She goes to bed around eight anyways, right?”

Sarah paused to think, “Well… A date would be nice… What kind of dogs were they?”

“Huskies. Friggin’ _Huskies_. I don’t know if you’ve ever had any, but they’re basically little kids.”

“Hmm… What do you think Annie?” the blonde woman smiled, lifting up her little girl and rubbing their noses together. “Would you like Catherine to watch you tonight? I think she’ll be up to it if I show her exactly what to do.”

Annabelle giggled happily, flailing her arms with bright eyes, and both women couldn’t help laughing with her. Sarah then settled the baby on her hip and, turning toward Catherine, nodded.

“Alright. It’s a deal. She honestly doesn’t need all that much to get her to sleep, so I’ll just give you the rundown before Will and I leave.”

“Alright! You get a nice date with your husband, Annabelle gets bonding time with me, and I get the house to myself. Tonight is going to be fantastic!” Catherine grinned, winking mischievously and getting a laugh from the older woman. “Naw, but seriously; I’ll keep everything nice and tidy. I mean, with Lennox doing all the chores, I’ll just have to put Annie to bed and just listen for if she wakes up, right?”

“That’s about it. She’s gotten much better about not waking up in the middle of the night, too, so you shouldn’t need to worry about that. Anyways, we’ll go through it all later this evening. You go have fun in the meantime.”

“Well, I’ll gladly do that, but I feel like I’m kinda free-loading if I do,” the redhead frowned, setting her elbow onto the counter and pressing her cheek into her palm. “I mean, technically I kind of am…”

Sarah huffed, “Catherine Wolf! You are by no means free-loading! This is your home and you belong here! Now go do something fun before I choose for you, is that understood, young lady?”

“Okay! Okay! I’m going!” Catherine yelped as she leaped from her seat, hands held up high in surrender, and rushed off to the back door. She paused to turn her head and give a grin to the blonde-haired woman, who gestured for her to get going. Not wanting to invoke the woman’s wrath, the redhead went out, narrowing her eyes in the bright sunshine. It was summer time, and while the heat was not nearly as bad as Diego Garcia, it still formed a few beads of sweat on her brow as soon as she stepped out onto the dirt lot. She paused to breathe in the country air, which was especially fine and clear this morning, and she suddenly wished the Lennox’s had a dog. Certainly, the ranch felt a little empty without a four-legged companion running about, and that in turn made her think of Steeljaw.

She snickered a little, imagining the large, metal lion romping about the land, racing the horses or playing carefully with them. He would have done well on a ranch, she supposed, but he was still on active duty guarding the shard, and, according to the message Teletraan received this morning, he was quite alright spending time with his human companions. She had to admit it made her a _little_ jealous, but at the same time her motherly pride was glad for it.

“Ah, so what to do today?” she mumbled aloud and she began to walk. There was no path to the lot, just a large plot of dirt with varying amounts of grass around it. There were well-tended plots of flowers at the edge of the house, but everything else was obviously naturally grown. Except for the garage, tool shed, and horse barn, of course, the last of which echoed the familiar sounds of horse hooves clopping against a paved floor. She hummed pleasantly as she turned and headed that way. In the building she found Lennox putting their gray-coated gelding—aptly named Gray—back into his stall.

“Sooo… How are the Ladies and Gents treating you this fine morning?” she called out once the brown-haired man had closed the stall door. Lennox glanced up, smiled a little, grabbed a towel off the tool box, and made his way towards her. His shirt was soaked through already—or well, she didn’t know how long he’d been out there—and he had some dirt on his face, but he was as cheerful as always.

“Not bad, actually, which is nice since I don’t have you doing all the work,” he chuckled as he chucked the towel at her, which she caught on reflex, but quickly threw back as she realized how wet it felt.

“Ugh! Don’t throw your nasty sweat towel at me!” she hissed, and the man laughed. “Anyways, Sarah said I had to go do something fun, so do you know where Sideswipe and Jazz are?”

“You expect _me_ to know? _You’re_ their keeper,” he smirked, and the redhead rolled her eyes as she set her hands onto her hips before giving him a look. He waved it off with another laugh. “Alright, alright, kiddo. They’re someone out in the field or the streets. Stretching their legs is what they said, I think.”

“You ‘think’?”

He shrugged, “Like I said— you’re their keeper. Anyways, I’m done with my chores, so I’m heading inside. Have fun looking for them!”

“Thanks,” she grumbled, dodging his dirty hand, which had aimed to rough up her hair. She got a few chuckles from him while she secretly stuck her tongue out at his back, and turned towards the fields. The land went for a good amount of acres—she could never remember how many—but she couldn’t see an Autobot in sight. She frowned, using her hand to shade her eyes from the sunlight as she peered out at the trees, but again nothing. She huffed, but fell onto her backup plan; it was Allspark power time.

She didn’t even need to close her eyes as she conjured the mental image of the two in her head, and used her abilities to search for their presence. She knew now she was locating their signature, but preferred to call it “aura” or something more mystical. Whatever the case, even with little to no Energon absorbed in her, she could always find it, although only to a certain distance. Thankfully, the whole ranch was within her range, and she was able to pick up on one she knew quite well. She was a little taken back when she thought she felt it reach back to her—almost like how it had happened with her drones and Steeljaw—but it stopped in the next moment. She supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised. It was Jazz, after all, and he always seemed to have some kind of weird connection to her. It probably came with being an older-brother guardian.

She smiled as she started off, heading towards the trees. While her eyes couldn’t see it, the white-armored mech was amongst them somewhere, relaxing. She hadn’t felt Sideswipe, so she supposed he was off on the streets. That would be like him—he preferred the pavement to dirt. She was a little surprised Jazz wasn’t with him, but, then again, the saboteur was far more patient and calm than the younger, silver mech. It was almost funny how nearly opposite they were.

She let her thoughts meander around that for a bit longer before they dwindled off while she walked. She was glad for her NEST gear shorts and loose shirt—it made the heat bearable, although the tall grass tickled her calves. It certainly made her trip to the trees, which was actually rather far, somewhat interesting, but she was definitely glad to finally be in the shade when she reached the thick brush. She’d already spotted the lone mech about a minute ago, and so slunk between the tall trunks to where he sat in such a way that it looked as though he were meditating in the large space that he had adjusted himself by the looks of the fallen vegetation.

“Hey, Jazz,” she called out as she came up beside his leg, turned around, and pressed her back against it. They were folded underneath him while his hands lay perfectly still on his lap, and it immediately made her think of the Japanese anime shows she used to watch. His visor was off, but flickered on and retracted as he looked down at her with a grin and held his hand out to her. She took it, of course.

“Mornin’, shorty. Glad ta see ya found me,” he hummed as he set her on top of his leg where she settled down into a relaxed, prone position.

“Not hard now that my range is as big as the ranch. All the practice has paid off,” she mused. “Although, I thought… Er, well, did you… uh… reach out to me? Like, did you feel me feel you and feel back? I know it’s possible, since my creations can…”

“Ah, so ya started ta figure dat out. Yeah, I reached out ta ya.”

She jerked up, “Whoa, _seriously_? Wait—does that mean the others can feel me, too? Like Sideswipe? Or Prime? Or Ratchet? I’ve reached out to them before, so did they ever ‘feel’ me, too?”

“They can feel it, but it’s not as strong as when ya ‘feel’ for me or ya creations. It might register on their scanners, but they won’t know ta reach back. Not all ‘o them will be able ta, either. Only certain ones ‘o them can,” the white mech replied, and Catherine bit her lip curiously.

“Only certain ones?” she began with a murmur. “Which ones, though..? Prime and Ratchet can I’m pretty sure… I think maybe Sideswipe, but I don’t know. You can, and so can the drones and Steeljaw, but I don’t think any of the new guys can so… Oh my God—Jazz! Are the ones that can ‘feel’ me the ones I’ve used my powers on?”

A small smirk flickered onto his faceplates, “’Atta girl. Ya getting’ it now.”

“I’ve been thinking about that whole ‘feeling’ thing, too. I mean, I might be crazy, but ever since Elita-1 told me about all the spark bonds… I’ve… I’ve been wondering if maybe I have one with Teletraan, Blaster, Cybermon, and Steeljaw. I did manage to finally ask Ratchet, but he said even with Energon blood I shouldn’t be able to, but he has to be wrong—I can feel my creations too well to not have a Creator Spark Bond… But how? I thought only sparks could make bonds…”

“C’mon, shorty, if ya wanna get it don’t ask the questions—just think ‘bout it fo’ a minute,” Jazz spoke, touching the redhead gently to calm her. Catherine looked up, nodded, and pulled herself into an Indian-style position with her elbow resting on her knee and chin in palm, prime for thinking. It didn’t take long for her thoughts to get something together, and she almost smacked her palm to her face, but instead let her mouth hang open for a stupid moment.

“The Allspark!” she gasped, but then frowned again. “But wait—no one has a bond with the Allspark. Or, well, no one ever said they felt anything from it. Although, they knew the Allspark as the Cube, which wasn’t sentient… but _I_ am… Jazz… Is it because that _I_ have the Allspark’s power in me… that I can make spark bonds?”

“Yes.”

She stood up to begin pacing on his leg, “But then that means I’ve been exchanging spark signatures if what Elita-1 said is right, but I shouldn’t be able to since spark bonds require very specific sparks and I’m human, which means I don’t have a spark. But apparently I’ve been spark bonding with everyone, which shouldn’t work! Or is that something the Allspark does? And what kind of bond is it exactly? I mean, I can sense feelings, but that’s it, so I don’t know how close that makes it. And they can’t feel me as well as you, so I guess that makes it one-way, but… Argh! This is so weird, Jazz! I know you said you’re not supposed to tell me, but can you at least answer me a yes or no?”

He nodded once she turned to face him, and she took in a deep breathe to prep herself.

“Okay. Can I form any of the three spark bonds with anyone?”

“Yes,” he replied at once, and her eyes widened a little.

“O-okay. Wow. That’s, uh, pretty intense. Um. Okay, uh… Do I control which one I make?”

“Yes.”

“How? Oh, wait—that’s not yes or no. Um… Do I control it by, um… by… uh, my, uh, interactions with everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, so that means I’m not a Spark Mate to everyone then,” she began, breathing a sigh of relief. “That’d be, uh, awkward, and I’d feel bad if I got in the way of that for somebody. So, um… If it’s based on interactions… Do you and I have a sibling bond?”

“Ya got it.”

“Huh. Okay. Cool. I guess that’d explain why we’re pretty much in synch most of the time. Well, kind of. I think there’s more to it, but I’m not sure,” she hummed, no longer pacing, but still rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “I wonder… If I can make a bond with anyone, and they’re based on interactions, can I change the bond? I mean, I’m already defying most of the logic Elita-1 told me with just being human with bonds.”

“Yes, like all ‘o the other questions. Ya done good, shorty. Ya still gotta long way ta go, but ya doin’ good,” the white mech smiled down at her, and she raised a brow.

“Now that I think about it, you’re being awfully revealing today. I thought I was supposed to figure it all out on my own?”

“Ya had it mostly figured out when ya asked ya questions. When it’s just confirmation, it’s s’okay for meh ta answer ya questions.”

“Huh. Well, that’s convenient. But man—I can make spark bonds? Just—holy crap! That’s… That’s _weird_. What am I supposed to do about this? I mean, I did it without their asking and it seems like one of those things you’re not supposed to ‘accidentally’ do or force onto someone or whatever. Do any of them know? Should I even tell them?”

Jazz’s hand brushed against her belly, effectively stopping her ramblings and footsteps, and brought her gaze up to his optics. She calmed at once and let herself act as a dead weight on the metal digit, using the mech as her means to stay upright. He smiled then, knowing she was alright, and lowered her down gently.

“There. Now that ya got the coolant goin’,” he began, settling back into a more relaxed position. “Ya don’t need ta worry ‘bout none ‘o that. The bonds ya made won’t affect ‘em ‘o their own ability ta bond with others. Ya can say ya bond is ‘special’, ‘Cat, so don’t ya worry ‘bout ruinin’ anyone’s solar cycle.”

Catherine stared into his optics, testing his words, though she already knew he was sincere. She didn’t need her powers to know, either—there was simply no reason for him to lie, and she could tell by his tone. And for that she smiled and pulled herself up and more over his digit so that she hung, her belly pressed into the metal, which was thankfully smooth. The white-armored mech chuckled as she carefully brought her up to his optic level, and she nestled her cheek into her palm, supported by her propped elbow.

“Mmkay,” she said softly, a smile still on her face. “So long as it doesn’t screw anything up. I guess it being a spark bond doesn’t really change anything, anyways. I mean, I’d say I have a ‘bond’ with all of you guys already, whether it be a as a brother or like an uncle or grandpa. So, you know what? I’m not going to freak out about it.”

“Sound like a plan ta me,” Jazz chuckled. “Ya might find they don’t mind, just like ya don’t. I know our bond’s done meh a lot ‘o good, so maybe it’d be the same fo’ them, yeah?”

“That’d be cool. I’d rather not have anything change, anyways,” she hummed, but paused as she noticed an odd twinkle in the blue glow of his optics. She almost didn’t want to know what it was for. Almost. “Okay, what’re you cooking up now, bro?”

“Oh, just wonderin’ a little somethin’ is all,” he purred, and she raised a brow, urging him to continue. “So… no ‘boyfriends’ in those bonds ‘o yours that I should know ‘bout?” 

Catherine glared darkly for a few, silent moments before smacking his face, and the white-armored mech just laughed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine managed to get a few good hours with Jazz, whom decided to lay off his teasing much to her relief, and then Teletraan was woken from his nap with a text message from Lennox. Apparently she had been out longer than she thought, and it was time for lunch, which promptly made her realize she was hungry. Jazz was kind enough to give her a lift back on the basis that it was an “apology” for any teasing, and she happily accepted. It helped beat her time walking between spots, and she was glad to bound her way back inside while the Cybertronian transformed to gaze out down the road, where the silver-glare of Sideswipe’s alternate form glinted in the sunlight.

Catherine, meanwhile, became busy with helping getting the food to the table. It was just sandwiches, but Sarah had turned it into a feast worthy of kings by giving them many different choices of meats and cheeses. When asked, the woman simply said she never got to do anything creative being the only one here and Annabelle being too young, so she wanted to have some “fun” and provide a good meal for the two of them. Whatever the case, the redhead was glad for it, and took great delight in making two different halves of a sandwich of her choice, and also playfully comparing hers with Lennox, thus starting the oddest argument over whose was better. In the end, it was decided Annabelle won.

Things then settled into normal talk, most of it steering towards their plans tonight, and Catherine took great joy in watching the two adults smile lovingly at one another, almost as if they were young teens at school going on about a first date. It was a sight to behold, but it also left her mind open to wander a bit, and she couldn’t help but wonder how she fit into everything. She didn’t mean just for their plans tonight, but rather _everything_. A look down at her sandwich made her wonder why she was there or rather _how_ she was there. Before, there had been a reason for her to be at the table, but what about now? As much as she wanted, Lennox and Sarah weren’t her parents. Annabelle wasn’t her sister. This wasn’t the house she’d grown up in. So how could they just let her stay and eat their food and be with them so easily?

She set her sandwich down, thinking. Yes, Lennox felt like a father or some adult-figure like that to her—he was always watching out for her and making sure she was alright like a parent would for their child, but Sarah? The woman had let her come in so willingly, and, sure, she came recommended by Lennox, but… but it just—she couldn’t fathom anyone being so welcoming. She had her own faults that could make it hard for her to accept people sometimes. Hell, she wasn’t sure she would have let someone like her in so easily and to such lengths. It was astounding. It made her feel awkward; out of place; like a leech.

“Catherine, what’s wrong?” the woman’s voice rang through her thoughts, and she blinked back to reality to find the two adults looking at her with concern.

“Oh. Um…” she began, picking up her sandwich in the hopes eating it would throw them off, but one look into Lennox’s eyes told her otherwise. With a short sigh, she put it down. “It’s just… You… You guys are letting me stay here and treating me like, well… family, but I’m not your kid, and I know some people do that, but it’s only after they know each other a long time, and I’ve only known you for a little while, so, y’know, I feel like...”

Both adults looked at one another, some unknown thoughts running between them as only a husband and wife would be able then, and then the blonde woman smiled as only a mother could at Catherine. The redhead’s eyes widened a fraction, and she felt her pulse quicken a little.

“Oh, sweetie. It’s not the time that makes the relationship—it’s the _experience_ , and I can say for a fact that it could have been even just a week of knowing you and we would still feel the same. It doesn’t matter you’re not our child or even niece or any other relative. The moment Will brought you in through that door, Catherine, you were a part of this family, and don’t you ever doubt that.”

Catherine glanced between the three, taking in Sarah’s loving eyes, Lennox’ confident, reassuring nod, and at Annabelle’s face, smiling as if she agreed, and felt her own lips curve upwards.

“Okay,” she replied simply, picking up her sandwich to continue eating, and the rest of them followed, their faces sharing a similar feeling.

The rest of their meal went on joyfully, the two adults continuing to act as young teens, the sandy-blonde-haired baby playing with her food, and the redhead free of worrisome thoughts. Even when the food was gone, the good times continued. Washing the dishes and putting them away was fun, and—for first time in her life—Catherine sat down with her “family” and watched TV. together. It was obviously a normal thing for them, but for her it was something entirely new and grand, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she sat in the single-chair and glanced between the show and her new parents. She almost let out an ecstatic giggle at one point, but held it in. Annabelle helped by laughing at the same time, and both parents quickly cooed over their baby.

She could have stayed there forever with them, but it seemed some greater force had other plans as she felt Teletraan buzz again. The little guy was awake now, but he had decided to stay in her pocket. She figured it was because Annabelle made him uncomfortable, but that wasn’t a problem as she checked the message he’d received. Her smile turned into a grin and she excused herself, as she was being “summoned”. They let her go, and she trotted out into the backyard, coasting by the buildings to the first few hills in the field. They were the ones just before the fenced horse pens where all of the equines were romping about or grazing, not minding the towering, silver figure watching them while he sat on the hill.

“Hey!” she called out, settling herself down beside his left leg. “So how was your drive?”

“Hey,” he smiled back. “And not bad. Definitely better than the dirt here. Jazz agrees, so it’s not just me.”

She chuckled, “I didn’t think it was. So. What do you wanna do?”

“I’m not really sure. I figured I’d ask you.”

“Huh. Um… I dunno. Wanna just… chill? We can talk some, too, I guess,” she inquired, tilting her head at him. He hummed, pondering for a moment, and then shrugged.

“Sure. I guess, uh, did you have… fun, last night?” he inquired, and her face lit up.

“Did I?!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Last night was great! Sam and I had sooooo much fun! I even won a toy dog, too! It’ll fit nicely with my things Sam saved for me… Oh, hell! I forgot them in ‘Bee’s trunk. Crap. Well, he’s coming tomorrow so that should be okay.”

“That’s… good,” he nodded, and she suddenly realized he was probably really bored last night.

“Oh. Um… I guess, uh, sorry, if, uh, things weren’t exciting around here?”

“It was fine. Don’t worry.”

She wasn’t convinced, but she let it slide and instead sought for something he might want to talk about. One subject came to mind, and it had been some time since they’d talk about the subject. She also knew it wasn’t a sore spot anymore, so she decided to test the waters.

“So, hey… Have you felt anything from Sunstreaker, yet?”

His head tilted, his optics dimming, “I… can feel… _something._ It’s weak and seldom, though, but I’ve felt it. He’s a long ways off still, but getting closer.”

“Oh, wow! That’s great!” she beamed, and he smiled down at her.

“Yeah,” he replied, but his smile suddenly turned to a frown and he looked away. “I, uh… I really am sorry about _that_. Especially now that I know for sure he’s alive.”

She sighed, “Sideswipe, I told you—don’t worry about what happened. That’s in the past.”

"I know… but it’s just… I was an idiot. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Even if I downloaded the memory unit into a Sunny you created… it wouldn’t be him. We wouldn’t have the same spark. It wouldn’t be the same, and it’d only be more painful. But now I know he’s alive, so I don’t need to worry anymore. He’ll come here. We always find each other, no matter where we are.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s alive then. I mean, I couldn’t understand what it’s like to lose that, but I wouldn’t want it to happen to you. Or, er—anyone. And it might be weird, but I’d say we’re better for the incident. Maybe you should be an idiot more often,” she winked, and he chuckled softly in reply.

"Maybe I should. I guess that means you have to keep putting me back in my place.”

“No problem. I’ll even extend my service to ‘Sunny’ when he gets here.”

He laughed loudly this time, “Oh, that’d be a sight to see! You better keep your word on that one. The whole base would pay to see that!”

“Well, then I promise I will!” she grinned, though settled down a moment later. “Hey, ‘Sides… do you… do you think your brother would like me, too?”

“Well, we generally like the same things so, maybe. He definitely wouldn’t show it, though,” he replied, tilted his head thoughtfully. “Why?”

“Well, it would be a little awkward if he hated me and you didn’t, am I right?”

“…Yeah, I guess that would be. Huh. Well, I’d just force him to like you then. I’m very _persuasive_ when it comes to my brother. But I don’t think you’ll have any problems getting him to like you. You’ve got pretty much everyone else, right?” he smirked and she returned the expression.

“What can I say? I’ve got the touch,” she winked.

He snickered, “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t be surprised if he ever looks at you like you’re the most disgusting thing on Earth. It’s how he shows his, uh, 'love', I think it's was you call it, sometimes, and you won’t be the only one.”

She laughed a little and then became quiet—Sideswipe didn’t make a move to say more— as she sat next to him, staring out at the field. It was a pretty view as always, although the sun was a little hot, being that it was midday. She supposed she should have been blistering being next to a metal leg, but the Autobot didn’t radiate any heat whatsoever. It was a nice, convenient trick Cybertronians had to keep them from overheating, which also benefited their human companions. It made things much more comfortable as she sat there with him. Although, the heat level could not help her back, which began to complain due to her odd positioning and so she shifted, turning so she could lean it against his leg. It was always a wonder how comfortable the Autobots’ limbs were despite their metal nature.

She let her eyes close as their silence continued, and she found she liked it a lot. Normally, they would be talking and teasing each other endlessly, but the quiet was nice this time. If she listened closely, she could hear the thrumming of his gears beneath the metal or possibly the flush of Energon through his wires. It was fascinating how something they were so like humans, and yet entirely different. They even had emotions, after all—they loved and hated and cried and laughed!

She opened her eyes and spotted his arm lying right in front of her, and she couldn’t help but stare. She didn’t know why—she had seen his arm countless times and even been picked up by it—but it caught her interest. If there was a way to describe it, it was like a kid coming across a shiny object they’d never seen before, and like any child, she had to get a closer look and touch it.

It wasn’t perfectly smooth silver. There were dents and cracks here and there, like scars from battle or any normal day things. He only had three fingers, but they were edged with small cuts and bent at the same points her fingers were. There were even joints where it attached to the main part, and then the palm itself was separated into three different plates with enough space between them that they could squeeze together if need be, allowing the hand to clench. Through the space she could see the wires and feel their pulse. Staring at it, she realized how like a human hand it was. Even his arm was similar, with joints in the shape of cogs and gears, and the muscles the wires underneath with the skin as the silver, metal armor.

Catherine brought her own hand closer, turning it face up so she stare at her palm along with his, and again the resemblance was uncanny, but fascinating, too. She pressed her palm into his, and marveled at the size difference. It wasn’t as big as she thought, but it was definitely there, and yet it seemed to fit in some odd way. Then, to her surprise, the fingers closed around hers. They didn’t close all the way, but the cool touch of metal was there, brushing across the warm surface of her skin. She smiled a little as she looked up at him, but faltered when she saw his expression.

She had never seen such a look—the optics dim, but soft and focused on her; his mouth in the smallest, but sincerest of smiles. It was… It was—well, she didn’t know what it was, but it was something she had never seen him show. It made her feel odd, but in a good way. Again, she could not say what it was she felt, but it was definitely good. Curiosity got the best of her and, still gazing into the blue oceans that were his optics, she reached out with her powers. Her heartbeat increased at once as, from his spark was a yearning—a desire; a need; a want... for _her_.

Her face grew hot, and she looked away, though her smile widened. She couldn’t begin to fathom why, but it felt right and she could not deny she liked it. She couldn’t deny the thoughts urging to run wild, either, and each direction they took made her face grow hotter and hotter, until she could take it no more. She moved her hand a little, and Sideswipe released it at once. She turned away from his limb then, making herself focus on the horses romping about in the fenced pen. All the while, she couldn’t help feeling his optics on her, nor keep the feeling of need from her even though she released her powers.

And all the while, she liked it.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**TMWolf:** _See? I told you guys there was some good Catswipe fluff :D And this officially marks the start of their romance. Kinda. Of course, they'll never admit to it so easily hehe_

_Anyways, so I've always believed that Sarah was the type to totally accept a random young teen Lennox brought in on a stormy night and who happened to help save his ass in a battle against an alien race.vSarah's just really freaking awesome, okay? Lennox, too. Sarah got herself a good man lol And, yes, Catherine is STILL worrying about her feeling like she's taking advantage of them. It's in part because she DOES want to be a family with them, and so she's worried about them "abandoning" her, so to speak. Remember the whole breakdown with Sideswipe? Yeah, that wasn't a one time thing. But now, at least for the Lennox family, it's a done deal :)_

_Also, Jazz finally reveals information! So. You can make Spark Bonds! And what's that? You can make them without keeping others from making a bond with them, too? Gasp! So many possibilities! Anyways- so yes, as the Allspark she can form ANY bond that she wants. I've always kind of thought the Allspark had a bond to CERTAIN Cybertronians. For example, I believed the Allspark was connected to the Primes, if only because the Fallen believed he was the Allspark's chosen one or some crazy crap like that. I also thought Sentinel Prime had some bond, because he was more knowledgeable than you'd think and more than anyone else. Anyways, that's just my opinion, so with Catherine being an sentient, EMOTIONAL being, she can alter and form any bond she wants :P I think you all know what that means~ ;)_


	38. One Step Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linkin Park - One Step Closer

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“So you, uh, forgot your things,” the brown-haired young man chuckled, lifting up the box held in his hands. Catherine, her arms folded across her chest, grinned and pushed off the railing of the house’s porch to saunter over and relieve her friend of the cardboard box. Behind them, Bumblebee’s gears whirred and clicked as he shifted and changed into his bipedal form. His wings flexed along with his limbs, and he chirped happily.

“So I noticed,” she chuckled, and then looked beyond him at the yellow Autobot. “Sideswipe and Jazz are out in the fields if you want to go see them.”

_“Roger that,”_ he replied, giving her a salute.

“Now, now ‘Bee. You have to talk normally with me, alright? You promised!” she replied, pouting, and the Autobot’s optics brightened with a smile.

“I suppose I did. My apologies, Catherine,” he stated, laughter lingering in his tone. “You and Sam enjoy yourselves in the meantime.”

Both young man and woman nodded and watched the Cybertronian trot off, and then Sam looked at the redhead with an expression that made her raise a brow in return.

“What?” she asked and he put his hands on his hips.

“Why you got to mess with me and “bee’s mojo, Cat?”

She laughed, “C’mon in, Sam. The parents are out and they took Annie with them, so we’ve got the house to ourselves for a few hours.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he chimed, moving into place next to her as they ascended the porch steps. “I take it the ‘parents’ couldn’t stand being away from their little girl after last night?”

“Oh, well, _actually_ , they decided to have their date tonight, instead,” the redhead laughed, and continued on when Sam gave a loud, emphatic “what”. She imagined his face was one of quite a lot of shock and possibly disappointment, but she didn’t look back as she led him through the door and down to the kitchen.

"Yeah. They ended up figuring last night was too soon, so they pushed it to today,” she finally stated once she’d set the box onto the counter and sat in one of the bar chairs. “We just have to put Annie to bed and then tend to her if she wakes up. No big deal.”

“Tsk… Oh, _alright_ ,” he sighed after a moment, throwing his head back in exaggeration. “It can’t be as bad as taking care of Mojo… And it sounds like someone is getting all cozy with the family, giving them nicknames.”

She grinned at his teasing as she nodded, “Well, I am part of the family now, so it’s only natural Annabelle’s big sister figure gives her a cute nickname. We’ll have code names soon enough when we want to pull one over Lennox.”

“Oh, geez! Poor guy! You’re going to ruin him!” Sam laughed, the redhead smirking mischievously all the way. “My Mom’s going to get jealous, y’know, hearing you’ve got yourself a new set of parents. They were pretty keen on adopting you after I told them what happened.”

“Well, you can tell her I appreciate the offer and would jump on it right away if Sarah hadn’t claimed me a year ago and if I wasn’t _dead_ according to my official file,” she chuckled back, and Sam folded his arms thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I guess that does provide a problem. I can’t rightfully have a zombie-sister. I think there are some legal issues. Maybe. I think? I dunno—are there laws against having zombies in a family?”

“Somewhere, probably. I mean, they have ‘no-sex-with-a-moose’ law somewhere in the U.S. I think. Maybe Canada. Regardless, it’s there, so there’s bound to be a zombie one.”

“Probably,” he hummed, and then paused for a good five seconds before staring dead-pan at her. “Why the hell are we talking about this?”

She laughed, “I have _no_ idea! How about we go do something fun instead?”

“Depends on what you have in mind,” he grinned, and her eyes twinkled.

“You’ve always wanted to learn how to ride a horse, right?”

“Am I right to assume you’re an expert?”

“Kinda. We’ll keep the ‘bots close by, just in case. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the Ladies and Gents.”

“’Ladies and Gents’?” he inquired as he watched her hop off the chair and head to the back door. She laughed and just gestured for him to follow, which he did. Outside, they were met with the trio of Autobots set in what looked like the Cybertronian version of a “pow-wow” as Catherine liked to call it, where they sat in a circle and exchanged words in their electronic language. They paused once the two humans showed, of course, but continued on when the redhead waved them off and led her companion over to the horse barn. She opened up the nearest stall, which happened to house their tanned mare, whom lifted her head up for but a moment before returning to nibble on the hay at her feet, the humans of no worth when compared to the food.

“This is Sunshine, since her coat and main are so yellow. She’s one of the two mares, and the most gentle,” Catherine purred, stroking the horse’s neck affectionately. Sam, on the other hand, kept a safe distance with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Oh, well, she’s uh, pretty big for a girl horse,” he mumbled for his reply. Catherine paused to glance back at him, brow raised, snorted, and then laughed loudly, catching the attention of a few of the other horses for a few seconds. Sam flushed a little and huffed, which finally got the redhead to stop.

“Sorry—I just can’t believe you’re scared of Ms. Sunshine here!” she grinned, returning to her petting. “She’s really a sweet thing and has a smooth ride. She’ll be Annie’s first horse until she discovers her wild side and goes for ‘ol Blacky.”

“Yeah… Um… Actually… I’m… uh… not so sure about this, um, riding thing…” the young man frowned, rubbing the back of his head.

“Aw, c’mon, Sam! I _promise_ it’ll be fun! Western is the best!”

“’Cat…”

The redhead met her friend’s gaze for a few moments before sighing in defeat and nodding. Sam visibly relaxed, having to work hard to hold back his relieved smile. Catherine rolled her eyes and pat Sunshine’s neck one last time before leading him out and closing up the stall.

“Sorry, if you really wanted to ride. I just…” he began once they were standing in the middle of the hallway, but shook her head.

“Dude, it’s cool. Riding’s not for everybody. Although, I cannot believe you are too scared to ride a horse after Mission City. I mean, _really_?”

“That’s… That’s different! Kinda. I just—oh forget it! I know you’re just messing with me now,” he laughed and she gave a confirming “mm-hmm” before stuffing her hands into her pockets, too.

“So what do you want to do then? I guess I can teach you how to shoot if you want, or we can go watch TV. or we can get one of the ‘bots to tote us around, I guess.”

“Good question and suggestions,” he rumbled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He went on for a good thirty seconds before his eyes brightened and he snapped his fingers. “Oh my God! I got it! Let’s have a race!”

She raised a brow with an eager smile, “A ‘race’?”

“You with Sideswipe, me with Bee—we find a long strip of road and race!”

“I’m assuming with us in control and not letting the ‘bots drive?”

“That would take out all the fun.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Sam grinned and turned to face the outside, “Hey, ‘Bee!”

Both humans hurried out, and were met with curious looks from their Cybertronian companions. The young man explained their wishes and terms, and although the ‘bots themselves would not be doing the driving, both Sideswipe and Bumblebee looked eager to test their metal against each other. Jazz teased about being left out, which turned the race into a round robin, with the lone ‘bot out acting as the referee each round. With everything settled, Catherine left a message for Lennox, and everyone was off, driving down the road with Sideswipe in the lead, as he apparently knew a great place for their desires.

It wasn’t too far away, maybe twenty minutes, and there they found a long, abandoned lot with plenty of room for a decent race. There was some grass growing through the cracks here and there, and there were the remains of metal fencing around the edges, but nothing that got in the way. It was also far enough from the road and ay civilization that no one would hear them and get curious.

Jazz laid out the distance for their race, and stood at the end so they would know where it was, while Sideswipe and Bumblebee let their engines rumble with anticipation at the starting line. In their driver’s seats, Catherine and Sam sat comfortably, though their feet were ready to jam on the accelerator. 

“Ready to know what it feel like to eat someone’s dust, Sammy-boy?” the redhead purred aloud, the Autobots’ comm. links activated between all three.

Sam laughed, _“Prepare to eat your words, ‘Cat!”_

“Ooh, we can’t let him live that one down. I hope you’re engines ready, ‘Sides, ‘cause we’re gonna cream this amateur!”

_“Ready when you are, though we’d own them for sure if I was driving,”_ the silver mech replied, no doubt smirking, and the redhead rolled her eyes.

“Don’t make me lose on purpose, jerk.”

_“Alright, kiddos. Time ta get this thing goin’! On my mark, ya dig?”_ Jazz’s voice spoke up loudly, and Catherine tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She spared Sam a glance, whose focus was on the white-armored mech at the other end. She honestly didn’t know if Sam ever drove ‘Bee at all, but she definitely knew she had more experience in driving regardless. Drag racing, not so much, but she knew how to accelerate when she needed to. It was time to show him how a real driver worked, and how fast Sideswipe’s sleek form could go.

_“On ya mark. Get set. An’… go!”_

Both cars roared as their accelerators were almost smashed down to the floor, and tires squealed, leaving black marks as they took off. Cheers and whoops went off on the comm. links as both human tightened their grips and pushed their ‘bots vehicular forms harder. The Autobots complied, their wheels spinning faster. Both were neck in neck, neither wanting to give the other the lead. Time was running short as they approached Jazz, and the distance between them shrank rapidly.

With a few final, heart-pounding seconds, the race was over, and both cars skidded to a halt, the actual owners of the mechanical bodies helping to make a skid turn that furthered the excitement of their passengers. Both engines roared a final time before opening their doors and allowing the racers to step out, eyes locking onto Jazz, whose face was in a gleeful smirk. He let the moment simmer, knowing full well both humans were eager to know who had dominated the other.

“Ya tied.”

“ _Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat_?!” both cried unison, though the redhead let her shoulders sag while Sam threw his hands into the air.

The white-armored mech laughed, “Yeah, ya both tied. Looks ya both got some hard-core drivin’ skills. Against each other anyways, but now one ‘o ya’s gotta try ya stuff against the Jazz-bot.”

“ _We will, we will rock you!”_ Bumblebee’s radio sang, and Sam let a wide grin appear on his mug.

“I’d say that’s our cue to go then! Let’s show him the meaning of speed, ‘Bee!” the young man laughed as he hopped back in, and the yellow Autobot took off toward the starting line again, leaving Jazz, Sideswipe, and Catherine amongst themselves.

“Eh, it’ll just tire you out for our run,” Catherine winked up at her brother-guardian, whom smirked, a twinkle in his optics.

“Ya gonna eat ya words, shorty. ‘Sides ain’t got the metal ta beat me.”

Sideswipe’s engine revved, _“You’re gonna be the one eating your words, ya fragger! Just don’t lose.”_

“Ya can count on it, ya little scrap,” Jazz chuckled and then gave Catherine a wink back. “Betta get the winner’s kiss ready for me.”

“Where’d you hear _that_ line from?” she laughed, but the mech had already transformed and tore off faster than even ‘Bee had. It helped his form was much smaller, and she suspected the mech had some extra power under his hood. She just shook her head as she finished laughing and Sideswipe transformed behind her, moving so that he was on the line. She stood underneath him, leaning against one of his wheels while she watched the two cars line up, engines loud enough to hear despite the distance.

“How long do you think we should make them wait?” the silver mech towering over her purred mischievously.

“Give it ten seconds,” she replied, folding her arms with a grin. “Let ‘Bee get antsy.”

“You want Jazz to win?”

“Well, if ‘Bee loses then we have a potential lead. Don’t worry—it’s not because I want to give him the winner’s kiss.”

“So you _do_ want to?” he inquired, and Catherine felt her grin widen a bit.

“Is that a hint of jealousy I detect? Well, if you want my affections so badly you’ll just have to beat Jazz then,” she teased, rubbing her finger in a circle on his armor. She had a feeling he might have shivered if he were human, but it was just a fun thought, and the silver mech gave the signal.

She could tell at once Jazz had left first. He’d snatched up the lead, and now he was keeping it. Bumblebee was working hard to catch up, and was even managing to gain some, but the redhead had no doubts her white, blue-striped brother-guardian was going to win. Her assurance was confirmed seconds later when the two vehicle careened by, the white Pontiac clearly ahead.

“You might actually have to drive a little on this one,” she whistled, turning to watch as Jazz did a drift turn to face them. “He’s going to be a tough one.”

“Just leave it to me,” he rumbled, rolling back a bit to transform just as the others joined them. Sam stepped out, disappointment clearly on his face, but he shaved it off when Catherine sent a chuckle his way.

He shrugged, “Eh, you win some, you lose some. At least you and I both tied, am I right?”

“Pretty much. Anyways, get on the finish line buddy-boy. You and ‘Bee gotta give us the sign.”

“Yeah, yeah. Kick his ass, will ya? I’ll pay next time we go eat some place if you do,” he smiled, and Catherine grinned.

“Oh, well now I just have to win! A free meal? I know exactly where we’re going then!” she cackled as she spun around and pranced over to Sideswipe’s waiting, open door.

“Wait! Nowhere expensive!” he howled, but the door closed and he and ‘Bee—now transformed—were left alone once the silver Corvette and Pontiac shot down the raceway. Sideswipe pulled a cute stunt, doing an almost full-blown donut right on the starting line. Catherine couldn’t help but laugh excitedly, knowing the mech was showing off big time. Jazz complied by doing a full donut and then another nearly almost full one to outdo the silver mech. Again, the redhead laughed, but only because Sideswipe grumbled unhappily and told her he was going to be the one driving this time.

_"_ _Are you three ready?”_ Bumblebee’s voice spoke up, and three confirmations were given in response.

“Let’s do this, ‘Sides. Your kiss is on the line,” she teased again, and the engine in front of her roared.

_“Go!”_

With a screech of ties, they were off.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

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“So, that, uh… Jazz, he… asked you for… a ‘kiss’?” Sam asked slowly, his mind still trying to overcome the incident that had occurred barely thirty minutes ago. Catherine took one long look at him and laughed loudly. He rolled his eyes as he let her finish and adjusted her position on the couch. She leaned back, setting her legs onto his lap, and he let her while leaning back, too, though propped his legs on the coffee table in the center.

“He was just playing, Sam. Don’t tell me _you_ wanted one, too,” she snickered, and he gave her a look that she waved off. “Anyways, it was just playing off the whole ‘winner’s kiss’ thing. They don’t have ‘kissing’ in their culture, so he’s just doing it to mess with me… and apparently you. Don’t think too hard about it.”

“Alright, alright. Whatever. Y’know…besides the fact Jazz is an alien…that was so not you. I can’t believe you actually agreed to it! Work’s been turning you weird, man.”

She shrugged, “Eh, it was just a kiss on the cheek and it was just for fun. I’m on vacation, after all. Anyways, all that matters is that Jazz is the king of the road, and we are pathetic in his white-and-blue glory!”

“True that. He creamed both of us! At least they’re taking it well. I mean, we haven’t heard any explosions outside or anything,” he mused, arching his head back to try and look out into the backyard, which the Autobots had gone once they’d come home.

“They’re either ignoring each other or having another pow-wow or whatever. Forget them, though—this is our time together! We gotta find something else to do… and I think I know just the thing! Wait here!” she shouted, rolling off the coach and sprinting up the stairs to her room. There she found her three creations rolling about lazily since they had been left while everyone else had gone out. They immediately perked at her presence and literally leaped onto her when she held out her arms. All three clung tightly as she made her way back down stairs and to the couch, this time sitting upright and closer to the dark-haired young man.

“It’s time you met my boys!” she beamed, holding them up with the pride and love only a mother could have.

“So they really are real!” Sam breathed, eyes widening as he took them in. Cybermon made some odd noise as he leaned closer, pawing at the young man, but too far away to reach. Sam helped, holding out his hand, which the Gameboy drones latched his own, tiny fingers onto. He eventually wiggled his way out of the redhead’s grip and clung to the hand using all his limbs. Blaster soon followed, though took to crawling his way onto Sam’s lap. Teletraan made his way up to the young man’s shoulder, beeping and flashing smiley faces all around. Across from them, Catherine beamed as she laughed.

“Aw, look! They like you already! Even if you didn’t believe they existed like a jerk!”

“Yeah, looks like it. And sorry, by the way. It’s just—it’s hard to believe, you know? I mean, _you_ made them. It’s still hard to believe you’re the Allspark. Hell, I can barely believe Mission City happened sometimes!”

Her expression softened as she looked down at her upturned palms, “Yeah, I know what you mean. They’re my kids, though. If Steeljaw were here, you’d get to meet him, too. He can actually talk normal and he’s very intelligent. Of course, he has a _true_ Cybertronian spark while these guys are…well, different. They’re good kids, though. They have yet to destroy the house although I’ve left them alone many times.”

“I’m not that surprised,” he grinned as he rolled his hand, earning a delighting beep from Cybermon who scrambled to stay upright. “ _You're_ their mom, after all. Man! That sounds soooo weird saying that! You! A _Mom!_ ”

“Oh, shut up,” she barked, smacking him lightly. “They’re the only kids I’ll ever have so I take pride in my… odd motherhood.”

“No plans on getting married? Not even a boyfriend?” her companion teased.

“No, I might get married one day. I just can’t have kids. Human ones, anyways,” she replied nonchalantly as she picked up Blaster and stroked him in his favorite spot. Across from her, Sam paused and stared with concern. She didn’t meet his gaze at first, but could sense the air around him had changed. When she did look up it was only for a moment, and then she leaned further back and placed a hand against her lower abdomen—right where her uterus would be.

“Ratchet ran some scans recently, and found that the Energon in by body has been altering some things. Turns out it’s messed with my reproductive systems and estrogen or something, ‘cause I don’t even get my periods now,” she spoke up, shrugging again as she finished.

“Oh my God. Catherine—,” he began, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“Sam, calm down. I am _perfectly_ okay with this. To be honest, I never liked the idea of giving birth. Of course, that's not such a big factor in the marriage-boyfriend department, since it’d probably be hard for anyone to get past _this,_ ” she sated firmly, and activated her powers to briefly light up her veins. Sam’s eyes widened with both surprise and awe. He recovered, though, and smiled reassuringly.

“I’m already past it,” he chuckled softly, and she smiled back.

“That’s because you’re my best friend and you’ve known me since the womb. It’s a lot easier that way. Anyways, don’t worry about it. These guys are a handful as it is, and they’re not going to grow up. It’s not so bad, though. Blaster generally chooses good music, Cybermon is adorable with his Pokémon sounds, and Teletraan is like a computer phone—kinda like an iPhone, but _way_ better!”

“Aw, no fair! There’s no way I’d ever be able to get an iPhone! I’m stuck with this brick!” he groaned, reaching into his pocket and revealing the thick flip phone he’d had since forever.

She laughed as she took it from him, turning it over to get a good look, “Oh my God that is _ancient_! Wasn't it your Dad’s?” 

“Yeah, it was. Anyways, I promise I won’t worry about your thing, but what about other parts of you? It’s not… hurting you is it?”

“No. Ratchet doesn’t think it ever will either. Granted, being infertile might seem like ‘hurting’, but I personally find it a boon. Be thankful you don’t have to suffer one week of every month,” she seethed, and he raised his hands in defense. “But, yeah, nothing detrimental. The Allspark Energon helps with that, I think. I mean, doc-bot says it’s actually improved my health, like my immune system and stuff. We’re running scans every week, though, to be sure.”

“If Ratchet’s taking care of you, then I’m not too worried. He’s the one that brought you back the first time—he won’t lose you now,” the young man nodded, if only to himself. “I guess we better just keep this between us, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Mom would flip if she found out, anyways. She’d kill me instead of just grounding this time. I bet even Ratchet would piss his pants. Or, well, whatever they do for that.”

“They leak lubricant, and yep.”

“So… I guess you want to change the subject?”

“Why not? We don’t need to damper the mood with my unusual bodily statuses.”

“Well then… I don’t suppose… we could upgrade my phone?”

She raised a brow, “Are you… asking me to give you your own Teletraan?”

“Would I need to run if I said yes?” he asked tentatively, and she let a glower appear for a good five seconds before snickering.

“No. I’d be happy to. It’s safe to do that here, but just know there are some contract terms. The first and most important being that he can’t be seen by _anyone_!” she replied firmly, pointing a finger at him while also keeping the phone in her grip.

“Roger that!” he saluted, and then took Teletraan and his phone once she handed them to him.

“Lemme find something to charge up on real quick then,” she rumbled, standing up to glance around the room.

“’Charge up?’”

“Well, yeah,” she hummed a she found an open plug socket in the wall. “I need energy to make sparks, and my body doesn’t produce enough so I use electricity.”

“Wait—how do you use electricity?”

“I absorb it. I’m basically like invincible against electricity now. To an extent,” she replied as she looked for a conductor. She found it in the form of a paperclip. She examined it briefly before straightening it out, and finally alarming Sam. She gave him a “chill” gestures “Don’t worry, I’ve… Well, I haven’t absorbed energy like _this_ , but I’ve touched a generator and Jolt’s electric whips when they’re active.”

"A-are you sure? ‘Cause I mean, if this is gonna hurt you, then I don’t want you to do it!” he called out, but Catherine waved him off.

“It’s fine. Just watch the show,” she hummed and stuck the metal paperclip in. She felt the rush of electricity at once, and the heat of the Allspark Energy growing within her. She grinned, having not felt the sensation in such a long time. It felt good, and she was ready to create a spark, even if it wasn’t going to be a true one. When she felt she had enough she released the clip and, eyes glowing a light blue, she moved back over to the couch. She grinned at her friend, whom stared wide-eyed, and she held out her hand.

“Give me the phone, Sam, and start thinking of names, ‘cause you’re about to have a phone-drone,” she chuckled. He nodded dumbly, dropping it into her hand. “Okay, now don’t freak out, but sparks are gonna fly out of my hand and I’ll glow blue more than I already am, but that’s normal, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, but then blurted out quickly, “Can I feel it?”

She paused, “Wait—what?”

“Uh, I mean. Er—can I see how it feels?”

“Uh… s-sure…? No one’s… really asked that… Um, I guess… just touch my hand?”

Sam did so, cupping the back of her hand with his palms, and she met his gaze, silently asking if he was ready. He nodded once, and she concentrated on the heat swimming within her. Though it had been some time, she knew exactly what to do. It was like riding a bike, and at once her body’s veins lit up bright blue under her skin and her eyes glowed ever brighter. Sam opened his mouth a little, but then seemed to relax as he turned his gaze onto the phone where sparks were beginning to form. Catherine focused, ordering the power within her to the phone, willing it to make the spark she pictured in her head.

Then something different happened. While normally the process would have been smooth and sparks would have started forming the drone at once, this time there was a pause. A strange, time-slowing pause. And— for what felt like an infinite amount of time, but was really a moment shorter than even the blink of an eye— she saw the strange landscape. It was so familiar, and yet she did not remember it. She knew it, though; she had been here before, but she had been alone then. This time, however, Sam was with her. She couldn’t believe it, but he was right there, his hand still touching hers, and he knew it, too. His eyes widened more than she’d ever seen them go, but there was no sounds, no other movement between them. He looked like he knew this place, too. But then there was a calling, one that turned their gazes to the distance, where a sphere of blue light floated towards them.

And then it was done. They were back in the room. The feeling was gone. The sensation was gone. The heat was gone. It was done. She was there, her skin and eyes normal. Sam was there, the same as always, although a bit more distressed than usual. Then there was the small, robotic creature standing on their hand.

Its shape was more humanoid than Teletraan’s—it looked incredibly Mech-shaped—and had bright optics with a look of intelligence that only one of her creations shared. She knew at once this phone-drone was special. In fact, it wasn’t a drone at all. This small being had a spark. A _real_ , Cybertronian spark with full intelligence and a curiosity of the two holding him—or her—up. She could barely breathe, her mind wracked with confusion and joy and more confusion. She could only wonder what was going through Sam’s mind, but that lost some of its importance as it spoke in clear, precise English.

“Good Afternoon, Creators,” it spoke with a male American accent, glancing between them. “Are you both quite alright? Your heart palpations are rather erratic according to the average rate for humans of your statures.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Catherine. It’s talking. It’s _talking_!” Sam all but squealed as he pulled away.

“I know,” Catherine breathed as she brought the Cybertronian phone closer. “Do you know who you are?”

“I know I am an autonomous robotic organism. I do not yet have a designation; either of you may provide one if you so wish, as you are my creators.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait—I’m its creator, too? Did we just make a Cybertronian baby?” the young man squeaked, but Catherine shook her head.

“No, he must just think that because we were in contact and he saw you. No, I am the one who created you, little guy. Sam doesn’t have the power. Now, uh, do you have a name you would like to call yourself? Or do you have a name, Sam?”

“Well, I figured R2D2 would be good,” the young man shrugged.

“That’s so nerdy, but what do you think?” she asked the small Cybertronian, whom tilted its head thoughtfully.

“Would… simply R2 suffice?” he mused, and Sam nodded.

“Sounds, good, ‘R2’. Now, he might not be your creator, but Sam is going to be your caretaker, which means you need to listen to him. You also need to know some rules when you do live with him.”

“Understood,” the newly dubbed R2 saluted, and then hopped off onto Sam’s hand when Catherine held him out to the young man.

“Alright, listen up you two. Like I told you already, Sam, he can’t be seen by _anyone_ except those who know about the Autobots, but even then you have to keep that to a minimum. If they ask, tell them he was made from the left over Allspark Shard energy as an experiment and I brought him here and he took a great liking to you. You need to follow that story, too, R2,” she began sternly, and both human and miniature Cybertronian nodded. “If you’re alone, then you can transform and talk and walk around, but otherwise, you, R2, need to stay in your phone form to not raise suspicion or panic. Also, don't do any hacking that might get you noticed, okay? I know you can do it since Teletraan can. That was… an awkward day, to say the least. Also, if there is any trouble just go to ‘Bee. He’ll know what to do and can contact Ratchet.”

“…This is starting to sound complicated,” Sam mused, turning his hand around to get a better look at R2. It was the same silver color as his phone and about the right size for it, too. His optics reminded him of Bumblebee’s—big, bright, and blue as they looked at the young man curiously.

“Well, he’s not a drone, so, I mean, it is a bit more complicated, and you’re not at NEST where everyone works with Cybertronians daily. But, don’t worry— it’s easy to get used to and not as bad as you think. After all, because he is a full Cybertronian, he’ll know better than to misbehave, right, R2?”

The little guy turned and nodded, “Affirmative.”

“Okay, now for some other little tidbits,” she began, and the conversation moved fast. When all the rules were laid out they finally began to talk about what he could do as a Cybertronian phone, and with each passing second Sam’s excitement grew. R2 seems equally excited, if only to be of good use to his new caretaker and to be the target of their joy and excitement. There was bound to be some mishaps along the way—what with the three much larger Cybertronian companions outside who undoubtedly could sense the new spark presence, but had yet to communicate with them. Catherine figured it was Jazz’s doing, but that was honestly the least of the worries on her mind.

In fact, while on the outside she appeared just as excited and into their talk of her newest creation, her mind was muddled with questions and worries and a slight bit of happiness. She didn’t know how or why it had worked, or why she hadn’t had to take from someone else, but she had done it—she had made a _true_ Cybertronian spark… and that shouldn’t have happened. She had a feeling that she _knew_ the answers, but no matter how much she tried, she could not recall _how_. She knew something had happened, but she could not remember what. She knew she had gone to some place—some place familiar, but it refused to become a word or recognizable image in her mind, yet she knew it! She knew she knew it! It was maddening!

And all through the rest of the day—long after the Autobots were introduced to R2 and their questions were asked; long after she and Sam had bonding time with Annabelle had; long after Will and Sarah had gone on their date and returned; and long after the young man had left with his new, secret friend— the plague of thoughts remained, weighing down upon her mind. However, there was one thing that was not part of it that weighed down upon her, too, and it was the happiness—the small hope that she had finally, just maybe, figured it out; that maybe she could do it; that maybe she could make sparks without taking another’s life. The hope wanted so badly to consume every part of her being, but she knew better than to let it. Still, she hoped, and she thought and thought until she was weary and slept and dreamed of Cybertron. 

**\------------------------**

**TMWolf:** _Alrighty! Sooo... Any theories? Anyone? ;) So that's that chapter. Oh, and, yes, Catherine is going to_ _suffer a lot from "knowing but NOT knowing at the same time" thing. There's a reason for it, too :D_

_It might just be me, but I thought Sam was adorable in this chapters~ squealing over how R2 was talking, tee hee. He's also a good kid :) Not a sore loser either, haha. Speaking of that- the kiss was a JOKE. Nothing serious. The only reason he did it was because he knew HUMANS did it in the instance and that he knew how some people reacted and wanted to mess with them. It obviously worked on Sam. Jazz is a troll, my people, and he always will be ;) He is also the kind of the road. No one beats him in a race except Blurr!_

_And hope you romantic fanatics liked that small bit of teasing between Cat and Sides. She's just terrible to him :D_

_And now we only have one more chapter I believe until we head back to NEST and then- ROTF starts! whoo! Time for some slag to hit the fan and some major battles to go down instead of just these small Decepticon skirmishes!_


	39. Currency of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silversun Pickups - Currency of Love! :3

\-------------------------------------------------------------

With the weekend coming to an end, it would take some time before Catherine could properly hangout with Sam, as another week of school was starting up. If she wasn’t dead to pretty much everyone she knew, she would have happily taken Jazz or Sideswipe down to Tranquility and visited them, but, well, she couldn’t very well say she was a zombie. Thankfully, that time was made up with going out and spending time with her foster family—she even partook of shopping, which she never imagined herself doing _ever_. With Lennox, her fun involved shooting or some other “man-fun” activity, and with Annabelle she could only stick to young, baby play, but that was a gift in itself.

Of course, she spent time with her robotic companions, and gladly took up teasing them as much as possible. She often found more alone time with Sideswipe, though, as Jazz became the favored form of transport for everyone—Sideswipe was a bit too reckless for Sarah’s liking, especially when Annabelle was in tow. It was a different, but wonderful gift that she personally enjoyed above all else, though would never say. 

And when no one was occupying her attention she found her thoughts took up the position. First and foremost was R2, the miniature Cybertronian she had made. According to Sam he was doing fine and following the rules, and he and Bumblebee both got along very well as, apparently, R2 was a fantastic conversationalist. For that she was relieved and glad, but still the question remained: how the hell had she done it? Tip-of-the-tongue was her mortal enemy in her battle for the knowledge, and no matter how many suggestions Sideswipe and Jazz could give her nor any questions she asked could put her on the right path. It was annoying, frustrating, maddening, and any synonym to describe a desire to throttle the mystery before her. Even worse—when she concentrated and tried to summon the same feeling, all she got were sparks and the darkness behind her eyelids.

By the middle the weeks she finally gave up—but not really—and let herself become preoccupied with working out to make sure she didn’t get stale over the break. Lennox helped to make sure of that, and so she also started doing chores, too. Of course, Sarah argued against it, but Catherine’s “responsibility” meter wouldn’t have it any longer. Besides, she knew Lennox would get her back at NEST even more than he already was if she didn’t.

It all helped keep her mind off too many things, the work outs weren't bad at all, and she always enjoyed shooting. Her drones helped with passing the time and making things better, too. They were always curious about everything she did, especially the horses. Their first encounter had been awkward to say the least, but soon enough the horses took on their usual “don’t-care” attitude, her drones were happy to prance around on their backs or to roll around in the dirt while she was shooting. Sometimes they played with Jazz or Sideswipe, and, after finally forcing them to confront the toddler terror, they had begun to make friends with Annabelle.

And so things went along smoothly and quickly through the week. It was honestly a good thing for Catherine, for it meant it was soon to be Saturday, which was the day Sam was going to bring his parents to the ranch and they were all going to have a picnic-dinner. It had taken much discussion, but it was decided it would be better at the ranch because she was considered dead, they didn’t want to take chances and it would allow the Autobots to walk around and have fun at the same time. His parents were still a little weary of Bumblebee being an alien sometimes, but they figured he could stretch his legs, especially if it kept him from getting antsy in the garage. It also just might have possibly had a bit to do with the fact Mrs. Judy often wondered aloud about the women who had “stolen” her potential “daughter” from her, but no one was foolish enough to say so. Sam mentioned Mikaela would be coming, too, and while it had surprised Catherine—although it probably shouldn’t have—she didn’t mind. It had been a long time since they talked, and, well, if she was Sam’s girlfriend, then she should try and get along again being Sam’s _best_ friend.

All it was going to take was a few days, and, luckily for Catherine, they went by quickly enough.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my goodness, Catherine!” Judy Witwicky cried out, tears nearly forming in her eyes as she spotted the young, redhead woman. A tight, loving embrace soon followed, the recipient laughing happily as she returned it. “I didn’t think we’d ever see you again! Even Ronald was worried!”

Ron Witwicky smiled briefly before putting his hands on his hips, “Only a little. You know how to handle yourself.”

“I missed you too, Mr. Witwicky,” Catherine grinned, reaching out to grab and squeeze his hand since Mrs. Witwicky refused to let her go. Despite his grumpy exterior, he returned the squeeze , and then moved forward to greet Will and Sarah. Behind Mrs. Witwicky, Sam and Mikaela stood, snickering at the redhead’s predicament, and behind them Bumblebee transformed and greeted Jazz and Sideswipe happily.

"Okay, Mama Judy… Really, I love you and I missed you and you know I love getting hugs from you, but you should probably go say hi to the Lennoxes. Common courtesy, and, you know, I like to breathe, too,” Catherine chuckled, glancing up at the older woman. Mrs. Judy made a sob-like laugh before tightening the embrace for a brief moment and then let her go to go greet Sarah, whom she embraced with a hug, too. The redhead watched happily, glad to see they were already getting along—Lennox and Ronald talking about something manly no doubt, and Judy cooing over Annabelle. She turned to Sam and Mikaela whom had finally come up to her, and she greeted them with a grin.

“I see you couldn’t stay away, Sam! And you brought a fair damsel to make our next victim! You are terrible, my _amigo_!” she boasted, setting her hands on her hips.

“I try my best,” he chuckled, and opened his arms for the two of them to embrace.

“Looks like you’re doing well,” Mikaela added, but Catherine could tell she didn’t want an embrace, so she merely gave a grinning shrug back.

“Eh, as well as you can get from working with the government. Anyways, we can all catch up on the couches inside. They’re a lot more comfortable then standing out here,” she replied, gesturing at the house behind them. Both agreed and all three huddled in— the adults still preoccupied outside— and they settled into their spots. Catherine took up the single chair, folding her legs beneath her, while Sam and Mikaela took the longer couch, sitting close with the dark-haired girl leaning on the dark-haired boy.

“So… how’s life everybody?” the redhead began, and she got half-hearted shrug from the young man.

“Eh, we’ve been at school all week and since we had this plan, we didn’t go out to anywhere fancy or anything.”

“Well, we did go to the mall on Wednesday, and we did have a little excitement there,” Mikaela smiled, and Sam’s eyes brighten as he snapped his fingers and leaned forward. Catherine raised a brow curiously.

“Okay, so listen to this,” he began with excitement. “Me n’ Mikaela were eating lunch at a table and stuff and this old lady is coming by with her grandkids. Now, these kids are fighting over the toy—some stuffed dog or something—and they’re tugging back and forth while the grandma is trying to stop them and make them take turns, y’know? Well, eventually one of the kids wins, but he’s surprised the other kid let go, so he flies back and the toy goes right over him towards us. Oh, right—we were sitting right by the edge, so it’s a pretty far drop down, but luckily for the kid, I’ve been honing my ninja skills and you know what happened? I caught it. BAM! I caught it in mid-air. It was sooo awesome! Kids were all amazed and the grandma even said thank-you all sweet, granny-like.”

Catherine snorted and then laughed, “S-sorry, Sam. It’s just—you made it sound funny, and you so totally do _not_ have ninja skills. Just a whole lot of damn good luck. Still, that’s pretty awesome how you saved that kid’s toy.”

“The old lady was really sweet about it, too. She even offered to buy us some sweets. The toy must have been really important,” Mikaela smile, snuggling a bit closer to Sam once he leaned back.

“Seems like it. So what about you, ‘Cat? Anything exciting?”

“Not really. Mostly just been working out and doing my fair share around here. I helped Sarah with shopping, too, and mostly just hung out with Sideswipe and Jazz, so, you know, usual week for me, although without the job obligations of NEST. Soooo basically paradise!” she smiled leaning back into the chair.

“What’s it like at NEST by the way? What do you do again?” the dark-haired girl inquired, and the red-head raised a brow at her friend.

“What? You don’t boast about how cool your _best_ friend is to everyone else?” she mused, and laughed off his stumble of words meant to be an apology or excuse. “Anyways, to answer your question, I’m the Autobots’ liaison. Basically, I try and keep things going smoothly between the humans and Autobots and do paper work. Lots and lots and lots of paperwork. I’m also training as a soldier, but I won’t actually go into the field. It’s pretty fun there when we’re not on duty or training. Everyone’s pretty cool except for a few.”

“Huh… Sounds… awesome,” Mikaela hummed, though the red-head detected a lack of sincerity. She brushed it off—didn’t even show a sign of annoyance—and looked to Sam as he opened his mouth. However, he was cut off when the front door opened and all five of their missing persons entered, still stuck in whatever conversations they had started. It paused when Sarah spotted the three and moseyed over to drop Annabelle off into Catherine’s lap.

“Mind watching over her while we start making dinner? Mrs. Judy apparently has a roast to die for that takes a few hours,” she smiled, while her baby cooed and reached out for the redhead.

“Sure, and trust me—it is. We should have your wedged potatoes with it, too, and your rolls. It’ll go great!” she smiled back, cuddling the toddler close, who squealed with delight.

“Oooh, sounds good. Now, you three have fun. I might need you later on to get Will and Mrs. Witwicky back inside. They’re going on about politics now, and lord knows how long they’ll spend on that! It’s bound to be as bad as when your father is cleaning his guns.”

Catherine laughed, “Sure thing.”

Sarah left them then, joining Judy in the kitchen while Lennox and Ronald departed to the study with a beer in hand. The redhead rolled her eyes at the sight, but quickly let Annabelle take up her attention and playfully tussled with the little girl, which became the target of affection from Mikaela as well, although it was in the form of cooing from afar. Sam, meanwhile, smirked at his friend, giving her look that she finally noticed after about a minute and gave him a confused look back.

“What?”

“Sooo… Lennox is your ‘father’ now, is he?” the young man purred, and she snorted back.

“Well, it’s official now… or, well, unofficially official, but you know what I mean. Just shut-up and look at how adorable Annie is!” she barked back, holding up the toddler’s hands to wave them at him. Annabelle giggled happily and Sam finally gave in and reached out to grab her hands and wiggle them a bit.

“And let me tell you, Sam,” she began again, leaning on the arm of the chair. “It’s made life pretty darn good.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The trio of young adults and one baby eventually found themselves outside amongst the Autobots where they combined their conversations, talking about whatever they wanted. Throughout it Catherine noticed something, and it was a fact that surprised her more than anything else. Just judging by the dark-haired girls interactions with her, Catherine knew Mikaela had no idea that she was the living Allspark. She had expected that, _maybe_ , Sam would have let something slip, but her friend had done a phenomenal job of saying absolutely _nothing_ about that little detail. Although, Mikaela did know about R2 who finally made his appearance, perched on ‘Bee shoulders, but the story was like she had asked him to tell—an “experiment” done with the shard. She was both happy and grateful. She was sure Mikaela could keep a secret, but her being the Allspark was a secret she couldn’t trust with just anyone.

And as much as she wished, she couldn’t keep herself from analyzing Mikaela It wasn’t anything born from jealous or what not, but she supposed it was some natural urge among women to scrutinize one another, and she was no exception. The dark-haired young woman looked no different from before save for a slight attire change. She definitely wore more dignified clothes—less skin showing than before, which Catherine personally approved of. She still retained her youth and model-good looks, which made it seem impossible that she was with her friend. The dark-haired young woman still retained some of her “popular chick”—she honestly didn’t have much better word for it—demeanor, but she had definitely broken from that shell to reveal more of her true, independent and strong woman side underneath. She supposed helping her father integrate back into society helped, as did working in a garage. There wasn’t much time to be “pretty” or “popular” there.

Over all, she thought Mikaela was okay. Not entirely perfect or someone she would consider calling a close friend, but she was okay. Catherine was confident she couldn’t talk about much with her, though. The dark-haired girl seemed to be fine with that, though, as she preferred cuddling next to Sam like he was a teddy bear or managing to put in some input here or there. She honestly didn’t contribute much to the conversation, and while Catherine at first thought it made her seem less “okay”, she soon realized it was because she was just awkward in regards to the situation. Unlike her or Sam, Mikaela wasn’t all that close to the Autobots. Yes, she’d ridden in Bumblebee, but they’d never actually talked like Sam did. It probably didn’t help that most of the topics didn’t really pertain to things the dark-haired girl would know, too.

Thankfully for Mikaela and for Catherine’s growing desire to stifle her inborn tendency to observe other females closely, the hours passed by faster than they could have imagined, and Sarah Lennox and Judy Witwicky came calling. All four humans departed from their metal companions, and took up helping to move a table outside, which was more complicated than expected. However, once they got both fathers away from whatever conversation they were having, things got much easier and it didn’t take long for everything to be set and ready for the food, which was all that remained. That wasn’t a long wait, either, and once all the food was out and everyone had taken their seats with their Cybertronian companions nearby, the “picnic” dinner began.

“So, are they treating you well at—ah, where was it again?” Judy inquired after taking a quick drink to help down a bit of roast. Though her question was directed at Catherine, Lennox answered for her.

"We work with NEST, but I’m not allowed to say where. Secrecy and all,” he chuckled, but the woman simply rolled her eyes and waved her hands at him.

"Oh, pish-posh! While I do approve of your taking Catherine in, she was my kid before you, and I have the right to know where she’s going to be and if she’s being treated right!”

Beside her, Sarah giggled, not the least bit bothered, while Catherine raised a hand to calm the woman.

“It’s okay, Mama Judy. They’re treating me just fine. Besides, I’ve put more than a few unruly pests in their place, and I always got my boys over here to back me up,” she winked, gesturing at Jazz and Sideswipe behind her who glanced over at their being mentioned “And then I have my uncles and big brothers on my team.”

“Well, I still don’t like you being so far away and having to do all this military business!” the woman huffed and chewed on another bite of roast.

“Aw, calm down, Judy. Catherine’s an adult now, and she’s always known how to take care of herself. Heck—she helped take care of Sam when we weren’t lookin’!” Ronald Witwicky spoke up, eliciting a deep, red blush from Sam who threw up his hands with an expression that all but sarcastically screamed “thanks, dad!”. Mikaela grinned with amusement while Catherine laughed aloud.

“Oh, you’re right. She was always the one that kept him out of trouble or from getting lost!” the woman sighed miserably. “It’s just—oh! I was so worried when she ran away, and then joining some secret army involved with these giant troublemakers!”

“Ma’am,” Jazz spoke up, smiling warmly at her. “I can assure ya we’re lookin’ out fo' her. That’s includin’ me n’ all the other Autobots’ n’ the humans. Catherine’s covered, so ya can rest easy.”

“See? Nothing to worry about,” the redhead added with a reassuring grin.

“Oh, be quiet, all of you!” Sarah sighed, shaking her head, and fed Annabelle another bite of applesauce before turning to face them. “As a mother it is her duty to worry about those that are her children! You men will never know, and you two ladies are still too young, but it’s just how mothers are! Now hush and let her fret! Especially you, Catherine. Just enjoy being doted on.”

“Hee hee. Okay.”

“Wait—how come I don’t get any of this kind of attention?” Sam grumbled, folding his arms.

“Because you’re a grown man who refuses to act like one,” his father barked, and Catherine let out another laugh. Sam quickly stepped on her foot, which made her stop, but then she stepped on his foot back. Both paused to glare, and then a tremendous foot war began. As both were seated across from each other, they were in perfect spots to do so, and were able to go on without interference for a while until things finally got rowdy.

“Alright, I think that is _quite_ enough you two!” Lennox finally bellowed when Catherine’s knee accidentally rammed against the table. “Honestly—how old are you two again?”

“Five,” Sam said at once.

“He’s five,” Catherine said at about the same time, and the young man glared and attempted to step on her foot, but missed. She quickly smacked her chest and held her arms out in a “come-at-me-bro” gesture with a confident smirk on her face.

“Did this happen a lot at your house?” Lennox inquired of Ronald, and the larger man nodded with a groan.

“It was actually a bit worse. They would sometimes have slap fights. Honestly, these two. It’s a wonder how they ended up separated in the first place!” Judy Witwicky replied, shaking her head with a chuckle.

“Eh, it’s all good now. And, of course, I always won the fights,” the redhead purred, and Sam raised a brow as he folded his arms again.

“Oh really? ‘Cause I distinctly remember winning more than a few,” he purred back, and she raised a brow.

“Care to test out that theory? ‘Cause, I mean, we’re already outside, so if you wanna go, bro, we can do this right now,” she barked, standing up with her arms spread in challenge.

“Oh, man, my Energon's on Catherine,” Sideswipe called out behind them.

“Scrap. I meant to bet on her!” Bumblebee huffed, door wings rising up slightly.

Sam looked up with surprise, “What! ‘Bee!”

“My apologies, Sam, but Catherine is stronger and more skilled than you are,” the yellow Autobot replied with a shrug.

“Except there is going to be _no_ fighting,” Sarah Lennox spoke up and, though her voice was calm, the underlying tone of force was there and both teens calmed and returned to their food. “Honestly. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you two were twins!”

Both young adults shared a playful grin before returning to their meals, Mikaela glancing between them with a look that went unnoticed. She too returned to her meal, but was far more lackluster compared to the others. Silence followed for a bit longer, the group scarfing down more of their meal, until Mrs. Witwicky dropped her fork with a clang and heart-wrenching sob came from her throat. Her hands went to her mouth, napkin in tow, and Sarah Lennox was quick to comfort the woman while her husband did the worst thing possible and sighed, shaking his head. The rest looked with concern and confusion, though their robotic companions had the worst of it.

“Oh, shhhh. It’s alright,” the blonde-haired woman cooed, and Sam’s mother nodded as sniffled and wiped at her tearing eyes.

“C’mon, Judy, stop cryin’ now,” Ronald spoke firmly, but with a hint of worried love as he turned to her and grasped her shoulder.

She looked at him and sniffed again, “Oh, how can you not be sad? Catherine’s all grown up and so is our little baby boy! If she wasn’t with that—that government thing, then she would be going to college with Sammy! And then all this darn business that happened and I was so worried about her! Oh, Ronald, you heartless bastard! You weren’t ever worried at all!”

“Aw, Judy,” the man sighed, and relieved Sarah of the hysterical woman as he brought her close, rubbing her back soothingly. “You know I was worried. I’m just a lot better at holding it together than you are.”

“Yeah, calm down, Mom. It’s not like we’re gone forever. You know I’ll be back every summer,” Sam spoke up, reaching over to grab his mother’s hand, who squeezed it like a death trap. He kept the wince from his face as she continued to sniff and wipe the tears, smudging something of her eye shadow and mascara with it. 

Catherine grabbed Mrs. Witwicky’s other hand, smiling softly, “And I get off every few months or so, which I can visit during, so I’m not gone all the time either. And I’m a liaison, so I’m not out fighting any bad monsters or people or anything.”

Judy met her gaze, sniffed and nodded, and then burst into more tears. She was given soft smiles all around as she leaned into her husband, whom comforted her with an amused shaking of the head. Everyone else exchanged looks, smiling at one another. Emotions eventually calmed down of course, things were explained as best as they could to the Autobots, and their meal continued on happily, all the way through dessert and long into the night. And all the time there was only love and joy around, and Catherine couldn’t have been happier.

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**-O-**

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“Well, that was interesting,” Sideswipe hummed as Catherine hopped onto his hand and he lifted up her up to his shoulder. She stepped off and settled into a small crevice she had recently found, cradled by the metal panels, and was rather comfortable.

It had been a few hours since everyone had left, and that had actually been at a rather late hour. Sarah had insisted that the Witwicky’s not help clean up so, after warm goodbyes and hugs—Mrs. Witwicky held together well—Catherine and her new family cleaned everything up. And when that was done, the parents started to prep Annabelle for bed, leaving Catherine to do what she pleased. She spent a few minutes with Jazz, sharing a few laughs over the dinner, but then she’d spotted the silver mech roll toward the usual hill and her guardian-brother let her go with a tease hidden in his laughter. She’d merely rolled her eyes, and trotted over to be where she was now.

“Mama Judy’s just _very_ emotional. It doesn’t help Papa Witwicky antagonizes her,” she chuckled back, leaning her head against the side of his helmet.

“Is that what you call it?” he snorted, settling down carefully on the hillside. “I couldn’t understand any of it to be honest. Although I was looking forward to seeing you fight Sam.”

She laughed, “Figured you would! It wouldn’t have really come to blows, though, so, y’know, feel disappointed.”

His blue optics brightened in the dark, and though there was barely any light with the crescent moon, she knew he was grinning. She curled herself closer, enjoying the heat coming from his metal frame although it was still a little warm outside.

“So… you and Sam and his family and everyone are pretty close,” he spoke up after a few moments and she put her cheek into her palm as she leaned forward.

“Well, yeah. They’re my family. Lennox and Sarah and Annabelle are my immediate one. Er, by that I mean Lennox is my Dad, Sarah my Mom, and Annie my little sister. But Sam’s also my family. The Witwicky’s have always been more like parents than my biologically ones, and, well, while I was in love with Sam for a while, we’re just like brother and sister now. He’s my best friend, you know?” she replied, a warm, content smile growing on her face as she spoke. “Of course, you guys are my family, too. But I guess you know that. I mean, I’ve told you how Jazz is like a bro to me, too, but like the older brother. Ratchet’s like the overprotective Uncle and so is Prime, and then Ironhide’s like my grandpa, and then I have my kids.”

He looked over at her, “Yeah, I remember… Where… where do I fit in, though? Just curious.”

“Huh… Where _do_ you fit in?” she mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I guess I could say brother, but then that’s not right, and you’re certainly not an Uncle or grandpa or dad. You are my friend, too, but that doesn’t seem to fit, either. I guess you’re just an enigma!”

“I am pretty fantastic. Only an enigma is cool enough to describe me,” he purred, and she laughed.

“Yeah, you’re a cool cookie, _amigo_. All I know is that I need you along with everyone else. Maybe even more than the others.”

It took her a few seconds, but the words sunk in and she quickly flushed, her face turning hot. She was so glad it was dark, but even then she was sure the Autobot could tell she was embarrassed. She didn’t know if he knew what those words meant, but it was humiliating none the less. If he did, he didn’t show it as he turned away, his optics diming slightly. She didn’t dare test to see what he felt either, if only to keep her from exploding from the embarrassment. Too bad it was the only emotion that she could never push away no matter hard she tried, so she sat there against him, flushing like crazy and letting her thoughts consist of saying how dumb she was.

And then, by some miracle, Teletraan, whom had been snoozing in her pocket, buzzed. Her embarrassment ebbed as she pulled him out and read the message. All flushing and humiliation vanished as soon as she finished and she stood up excitedly. Thankfully, Sideswipe’s torso was large and flat enough at the top that she could walk out on it to face him.

“What’s up?” he inquired, and she held Teletraan out towards him, though he didn’t really need to read the text.

“We got new recruits coming!” she exclaimed and then brought her drone back to scroll down. “They’re not saying who, but we got more Autobots coming! Maybe one of them is Sunstreaker!”

The silver mech’s optics dimmed for a few seconds, “…No, he’s not with them. He’s too far away.”

She frowned, excitement essentially halved, “Oh… well... Well, maybe they know something about him then?”

“Yeah, they might!” he replied, an expectant smile on his face. “He left with a ship, too, so he might have gotten separated. Someone’s bound to know what happened.”

“Well, they’re supposed to be here a few days after we go back, so maybe! I just hope those ‘Con sightings aren’t going to cause trouble. Sure, the NEST troops didn’t find anything yet, but, you know,” she rumbled, stepping back towards his shoulder.

“Yeah, the ‘Cons can be tricky, but if they know what’s good for them they won’t try anything,” the silver mech smirked, and the redhead returned the expression.

“’Cause Sideswipe’s gonna come flying in to save the day, huh? Kinda like superman?” she teased, and his smirk widened as his optics brightened.

“Something like that. Give me a jetpack and I’m there.”

“Well, not quite Superman, but close enough. Looks like we can rely on you then,” she replied, settling back down into the crevice.

“I’ll be there when I’m _needed_ ,” he purred, and watched as his play sunk in. With a groan she shoved her face into her hands, mumbling an incoherent string of words that only served to make him laugh.

With a sigh she leaned against him again, though smiling a little as she did so, “You suck.”

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**TMWolf:** _Well, I do hope that was some good 'ol Catswipe at the end there for all your Catswipe shippers ;) They're FINALLY getting somewhere, am I right? :D And Sideswipe finally got some payback, tee hee!_

_Also, turns out I lied. Chapter 40 starts ROTF. HOWEVER, I do believe you're all going to very much so enjoy the next one, if only for the little bit I put at the end. ;) Sooo yeah, next chapter it's back to NEST time! :D We're pretty much done with establishing relationships/introducing new terms so we can really get things moving along. Expect time skips to start and things to move a lot faster! Hell, we're about to go through a year time skip pretty soon :D So hold onto your butts people! And then cling for your lives once ROTF starts, because slag goes down hard REAL fast._


	40. Home Sweet Diego Garcia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is a play on of Sweet Home Alabama xD

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And so the final week of her short vacation came to an end.

Catherine had hoped to spend more time with Sam, but the school week made it difficult, although he did visit as much as he could during the few free hours he had. It was enough, as each visit was full of joy and much merriment, especially on the weekend when he was able to stay for the whole day. His parents came again, too, though this time everyone went out to eat instead. Catherine was ecstatic to see the two families getting along nearly perfectly, and while it did make things better, it also made them worse. The reason being she knew she was going to have to leave.

Mrs. Judy held together well—she even managed to not tear up when they said their goodbyes. Mr. Witwicky didn’t show any sorrow, of course, but he did give the redhead a warm hug, telling her to take care of herself, which was as close to an outburst of tears as he could get. Sam was of weaker make than his father, but he knew without a doubt that she would be okay, so it was loving grins and hugs for the both of them along with a quick note to not take forever to get back and not let “Galladouche” get the best of her. She promised not to, and then after a final farewell to Bumblebee, who promised to keep in touch, they left, and she went home to pack.

It was obvious they were leaving, and not just because Lennox already had his bags out in the TV room, ready to go for their early morning leave. Both Sideswipe and Jazz were more upbeat than usual—trading shoulder punches and moving about like a bunch of athletes before a match. It was amusing, to say the least, and then became hilarious when the two mechs began to brawl it out. Jazz won, of course; while Sideswipe was flexible and filled with youthful energy, the white-armored mech was no old cog and he knew exactly how to move the silver mech right where he wanted. It was for that reason Sideswipe found himself face first in the dirt, both arms pinned and a hand ready to put him into stasis should Jazz have wished it. It was all fun and games, however, so there was no animosity between them, but rather laughter.

Yet, soon enough even they had to settle down to recharge for their trip tomorrow, and Catherine was left to spend some time with her new parents and sister. It was short, but sweet, and Sarah composed herself well, no doubt used to it thanks to Lennox having been in the military for years now. Still, there were hints of the weariness underneath—the weakened smiles; the shallow bags under her eyes; the lack of luster. Annabelle even seemed to sense it, too, and did her best to make the atmosphere better with her laughter and nonsensical baby sounds. However, Sarah couldn’t be quelled, and all went to bed with a heavy weight that only increased the next morning.

They left very early so that Annabelle was not woken; leaving only Sarah was there to see them off. She did so much like before, hiding her sadness behind a smile, though they promised they’d be back soon. Then they left, riding again in Sideswipe with Jazz close behind. The Autobots must have sensed the mood, too, for the trip was quiet all the way to the military base, and even on the plane they only talked of what they needed to do once they got back. Lennox would have to go speak with Morshower to be updated on the Decepticon search teams, and Catherine was to meet with Marissa briefly in her office before heading to Ratchet for news on the new Autobots who would arrive in two days. A part of her didn’t want to meet with her mentor, seeing as she knew it was probably the last time she would, but she knew she had a lot of work to look over.

The plane ride felt like it took forever, but eventually they landed on the island. The hot, humid air was rather welcoming although it had them sweating long before they’d even reached the island itself. Although the scenery was bland, Catherine was glad to see it. Sure, it wasn’t the ranch, but it was still one of her homes, and she had family waiting for her. In fact, both she and Lennox did—their teammates were already there with water bottles in hand, which were chucked in their direction as soon as they were within range. Laughs and shoulder claps and even hugs—only for Catherine as Lennox wasn’t “man” enough for them—were exchanged briefly before the redhead forced them to let her go on the note she had some work to do.

Lennox was not let off so easy, though; when the redhead was out of sight, gone with Jazz and Sideswipe, they turned on their commander with stern, determined expressions from which the brown-haired man had no escape. And when they asked the questions that had been simmering in their minds for the past two weeks, the brown-haired man sighed and began to explain.

Catherine, meanwhile, was reunited with her room where the familiar, golden-armored face of her youngest creation awaited and greeted her with loving nuzzles and metallic purrs. His elder siblings were glad to see him, too, and as much as she would have loved to spend more time with them, she did have a brunette to meet up with and then a certain Cybertronian medic, too. However, while the three drones were told to stay put, Steeljaw decided to accompany her, much to his brothers’ ire. The redhead welcomed him of course, enjoying the attention he gave, rubbing his back and head into her much like a real cat. She knew he didn’t _have_ to act that way, but he enjoyed it, it suited his form apparently, and it helped ease many of the other humans since it was a familiar gesture from the organic version of his self.

They found the older woman sitting in her office, reading over papers with a concentrated look on her face. Her expression lifted once she saw Catherine and Steeljaw, and the two embraced as they welcomed each other. Of course, the reunion couldn’t last long—there was work to do and Marissa had news. Thankfully things had gone smoothly while Catherine was gone; no fights or arguments or outward animosity towards the Autobots. There’d also been very little interaction with Galloway, which the woman surmised to being due to his meetings with the President and other politicians, but there was no doubt he would be back soon enough. Then she went on the news of the new recruits coming in. Just as Catherine had been told before, they would be here in a few days, and Marissa had already handled the paperwork for it, so they were in the clear. All that remained was for Catherine to evaluate and put them into their groups.

With business out of the way, it finally came to the awkward moment where the redhead had to ask about Marissa’s leaving soon. A sad smile followed, and it was confirmed true—in just a week she would be gone. A depressed silence followed for a few moments before the brunette placed a hand on Catherine’s shoulder, and expressed her utmost confidence that she would be just fine. She also made a note of keeping in touch when she could and to call her using Teletraan if she ever needed advice. The redhead agreed, and so Marissa suggested they might go get some lunch, but as much as Catherine wanted to, she did need to go see Ratchet. While the reason she gave was for regulations, in truth she had a very important question on her mind, which became the forefront of her thoughts once she left the brunette and hurried to the Medbay.

There she found Ratchet and Jolt alone, still working on the project although definitely getting somewhere, which was good. She let her question stay on the waiting bench, though as she first said hello and received their welcome backs and went over what the scan she’d sent said—nothing different that he could really tell—and when that relief was given, she let loose the inquiry. Needless to say, the medic was both shocked and disbelieving. However, with a quick confirmation from her three witnesses of earlier events, he believed her, and quickly brought out the spark chamber box for a test. It was done within a matter of seconds, but the spark ended with failure. With a confused, disappoint sigh, Catherine resigned herself to continuing her studies whereas as her two companions gave their encouragement.

And with that she trotted back out into the halls where she greeted whomever she passed, taking their welcome with smiles. There was one pair of Twins she avoided as if they were death itself, and she barely managed to make it over to the human side of the base before they could call out to stop and subject her to whatever annoyance the two idiots might come up with. She was glad to see many of the human faces, whom were happy to see her back, too. She found her team soon enough, but she couldn’t stay long as they directed her to the Command Center.

Once there she found Lennox and Optimus Prime speaking with Morshower via video feed. She hurried up the stairs and joined in, giving a respectful salute and greeting to the General and Prime. Business was short and to the point—the NEST teams sent out had found the Decepticons, but their targets escaped Thankfully, there had been no casualties, but the soldiers’ reports stated the ‘Cons acted like they were definitely looking for something. What that ‘something’ was couldn’t be discerned, but they were positive the enemy was looking now. When asked, Prime noted Barricade could not find his way into any of the Decepticon channels, but he would continue to work with them in exchange for having more liberties. Thankfully, those ‘liberties’ only meant he would be allowed more roaming area and be given larger Energon rations. While the government apparently had not been entirely happy—they would prefer him still locked up and being interrogated—it had been agreed to.

Catherine didn’t have much to say on that, having figured Barricade wasn’t a completely mindless, sick bastard like Megatron was. Of course, that was the least of her concern as she, like the others, wondered what the Decepticons could be looking for. What could be here, on Earth—an alien planet—that they would want? There was certainly no natural Energon. In fact, the Autobots had to synthesize their own. The sightings were nowhere near any nuclear sites or weapons of mass destruction. What was Starscream’s plan? Was Starscream even the ‘Con behind it all? There were just too many questions and too few answers. Their only relief was that the enemy wasn’t out to strike them or the humans. So long as the Decepticons were being subtle then they wouldn’t have to suffer too many repercussions beyond annoyance from those sitting behind the desks that didn’t actually know diddly squat about NEST affairs.

With the dour news finally out of the way, the topic of the new recruits came up once more, and their attention fell onto Catherine. Apparently, due to some interference, the Autobots weren’t able to properly communicate, but they knew where they would be landing so a party in Qatar would be sent out to help them get here, and then they would be in her and the Autobot’s care. Essentially, she was given the basic rundown of her duties which she already knew how to do and felt like the whole talk was tedious, but listened anyways. She did perk up, though, when the conversation suddenly jumped to fact Smokescreen had been approved as her liaison aid for the Autobots. Starting tomorrow, he would begin working with her and would help with the new bots.

That turned out to be the last bit of important news and she was dismissed with Lennox, which meant—for them—it was time to have some welcome-back fun with the team and friends alike. She was happy to agree and a barbeque was soon up and running, but this time they were accompanied by a few other teams. Catherine recognized a few of them at once as those under Knock Out and Bluestreak’s, though some were new, but all were a blast. And then a wonderful surprise came not to long after: Autobots! Apparently word had gotten out, and soon they had Sideswipe, Jazz, Bluestreak, Knock Out, Smokescreen, Springer, Arcee, and even Jazz out there with them just talking and having fun.

For Catherine it was a grand time, and it was a shame tomorrow and the following days would only have work for her to do. Until then, however, she was going to have a fun time.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

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With a loud yawn Catherine flipped over the first page of the document she’d been given from the tech boys down at Central Command. She’d been foolish and gone to bed later than she should have—she blamed Sideswipe, the bastard—and now she was suffering for it. Oh, she’d be good in a few hours, but having to exercise while still half asleep and then having to read papers was not a good combination. Granted, they were profile papers on the new recruits, but _still_. She was in no condition to properly think on what teams they would go with.

“Okay, first up: Warpath. I’m guessing he’s the fighting type, and oh look! I’m right,” she hummed sardonically as she took a look at the mech’s picture. Even if the word “FRONT LINER & ARTILLERY” wasn’t printed near the “Type” bullet point on his sheet, it was obvious he was meant to be a fighter. His chest was, literally, the barrel of a freaking tank! She could only see awkwardness when going down hallways and through doors with this guy. She knew right away he was going with the heavy weaponry team who actually used tanks or the mounted vehicles. He wasn’t fast, anyways, if his speed numbers were right, so he’d fit right in. Oh, and his raucous personality would work, too. It certainly fit his alternate form.

Second up was a quaint looking mech by the name of Hound, and fitting his name perfectly, he was a tracker. A _very_ good tracker, apparently, which was like a God send at the moment. They needed a bloodhound to find the ‘Cons and see where they were coming to and from. She noticed his personality was well rounded, and venturing close to Bluestreak’s, although with less talking. And when she thought of the long-winded mech, she recalled the notion that Hound loved nature. He would definitely enjoy and fit the reconnaissance teams then, and possibly get along well with humans if he didn’t ask too many curious questions about them.

Beachbreak was next, and Catherine considered his choice of alternate vehicle form a smart one for living on an island…. and a planet that was covered mostly with water. While Cybertronians could submerge in water, the long-term effects and consequences weren’t always so lenient, if Ratchet’s rant on why two certain Autobots should _not_ be thrown into the water was example enough. This Beachbreak, however, was apparently suited for water environments—in fact, his body was immune to the problems others had. She could see immense advantages with him, and his personality seemed just fine, too. She already knew he’d be heading for the Navy section of NEST, meaning they finally had an Autobot they could really work with.

“And now for the guy who got Ratchet leaping for joy. Still can’t believe it,” Catherine chuckled as she glanced at the red-and-white Autobot mech, who reminded her of the awkward, young adolescent on their first day at the job. His name was First Aid, apparently, which, like most of the Autobots, fit some characteristic they had perfectly. In his case, the mech was a medic and not just any medic—according to Jolt, whom had to be the one to give her the report since Ratchet was too busy talking with said mech, he was one-and-only first apprentice and protégé of their Chief Medical Officer. She’d never heard of him from Ratchet, but it’d only taken one look at the happiness on the chief medic’s face to know it was true. She didn’t even need to read through his whole profile to know where he was going.

“So. Four new mechs; three battle-savvy and one a pacifist medic. Not a bad haul,” she hummed, setting the files down and turning to her very own desktop computer—installed recently over her break due to Marissa’s string pulling—and typed up her notes on a word document. It would eventually become a report, but for now it was just a list of bulleted sentences. She leaned back a little to think on what else to write, but then nearly fell out of her chair as the military-fitted form of a man appeared before her out of thin air. While she didn’t fall, she did stumble backwards and nearly threw her mechanical pencil at him, but then she noticed something odd: a flicker in the man’s image. There was also the fact the man wasn’t moving much, at least for the first minute. When his eyes suddenly shot up to look at her she armed herself again with the pencil, but this time the man raised his arms in surrender.

“Ms. Wolf, wait—this is just a hologram,” the man spoke, though his mouth didn’t actually move, and the voice sounded a lot like Smokescreen’s. In fact, if she didn’t know any better it _was_ Smokescreen’s voice.

“…Smokescreen? Hologram?” she replied, raising a brow, and, her fear ebbing, leaned over and stuck her pencil through. Sure enough, the man wasn’t really there. He didn’t even flinch.

“Yes. It’s me, and, yes, this is a hologram. We all have one. It’s a way to help us blend in should we need it. It’s really nothing more than an alteration of light to create an image in your brain.”

“Oh. That’s um… pretty freaking awesome, although you should move the mouth when you speak. And put your hands down. It’s kind of creepy.”

His hands fell, but the mouth still didn’t move, “My apologies. It is… difficult to work the holograms in perfect human form and mannerism. We generally do not use it except for camouflage.”

“Wait… then why are you using it now?” she inquired, tilting her head.

“Well, you do not have Teletraan with you and I cannot fit into the room. Our comm. links, however, are capable of going through the holograms, in way. I believe it has to do with what you call ‘rays’ or rather the ‘electromagnetic spectrum’, so I am able to speak to you now. It is difficult to explain, but to continue answering your question; I cannot get into the room nor communicate efficiently by shouting through the door, so I have used a hologram to do so.”

“Oh. Well, uh, we can go work in your office if that’s better. I was just reading the profiles now and typing up some notes and stuff,” she replied, already getting them together.

“You don’t have to… although it might be preferable. I admit is rather awkward standing outside your door just staring at the wall,” Smokescreen chuckled, though the hologram’s face remained passive.

She snickered, “Yes, well, I think we’ll go to your place if only to save you from embarrassment then. I’ll be out in a second.”

While she got everything together, the hologram vanished—surprising her a little again. She must have blanked out when she was learning that lesson. Granted, the Autobots rarely, if ever, used a hologram. Most of their alternate modes had dark window shields, which allowed them to do without the hologram, but she supposed some would require one, and by all means it was definitely logical. Still, now she was curious, and would definitely ask Ratchet or whoever the expert on them was.

For now, however, she left the room with everything she needed included some extra work and exited the room to find a blue-armored foot with wheels attached to the side waiting for her. She blinked only once before looking up to find the bright-blue optics of Smokescreen looking down at her from beneath the yellow “V” on his head—chevron, she believed they called it. He backed up to lower his hand for her. 

“Shall I escort you, Ms. Wolf?” he grinned much like a smooth talker.

She grinned back, “I’d be delighted. And, please, call me Catherine, Smokescreen. Although I’m _supposed_ to be professional being your liaison and all, but I personally feel being casual is much better. Of course, I always use formality when called for.”

“Ah. If we were of the same race I would say we were twins,” the mech chuckled as he set her on his shoulder. “The others have mentioned as much, and approve, of course. Even the more ‘professional’ types, as you would say, although I suppose that quality only applies to Prime and Lieutenant Jazz, really. I would count myself, but I’m generally just a foot soldier and not a liaison, albeit an aid.”

“Dude, Smokescreen, as far as I’m concerned you're also a liaison, but for handling Autobot affairs and I can deal with things going on between humans and Autobots. Something like that. Oh, and handling Galloway. I have to do that. I doubt he’d even so much as _look_ at you. ‘Course he barely recognizes me as a proper ‘partner’ in the job, anyways. Dirtbag doesn’t know what’s coming for him!” she boasted, flexing her muscle and smacking it in a fantastic display of strength that brought an amused smile to the mech’s face.

“Well, let’s hope we can keep things peaceful so we don’t have to deal with this ‘dirt bag’ of yours,” he mused, but Catherine snorted.

“He’ll ring his ugly head in our business regardless. He keeps trying to get you guys to share your tech, but that’s definitely _not_ a good idea,” she sighed, folding her arms and tilting her head. “Anyways, like I said, you won’t have to deal with it, so leave that to me. Of course, if you feel like giving advice, don’t hesitate, but I think I got this. But, uh, anyways, I suppose our first order of business should be to discuss the new recruits. I already have some ideas on where to put them, but I’ll gladly take your input on their skill sets and personality, although Ratchet has yet to steer me wrong with his reports.”

He nodded as he stopped at a door and slid it open, “I know a few of them personally, and so far you’ve done a good job on your own. To be honest, I’m finding my only real need is in regards to the Decepticon—or, well, I suppose we call him a ‘neutral’ now.”

“Ah yes. ‘Ol grumpy-pants Barricade. I’ll tell ya this—it’s definitely not as bad as before. Everybody doesn’t want to kill him now. At least openly,” she grinned a little as he set her down on his “desk”. 

Much like most of the rooms, he had only a bed, desk, and maybe a shelf for whatever a Cybertronian would want. The Autobots didn’t honestly need much, and so it was more like each room was made with the bare necessities. She’d once thought it was how their homes were like back on Cybertron, but that had gotten her a laugh from Jazz who explained they actually had very elaborate, beautiful structures for homes, but here on Earth they were still at war and so they only needed as much as any soldier needed. Catherine felt a little bad that they were deprived of comfortable abodes, but Jazz told her not to worry about it, so she didn’t.

“Forgive me for keeping it so plain. I’ve been meaning to put some decorations—it helps lighten the mood—but it’s hard to find things in Cybertronian sizes and I am not the best craftsman,” Smokescreen chuckled as he sat down in his “chair”. It was more so just a metal block with a back welded to it, but it worked apparently.

“I sense a psychiatrist in you, Smokescreen. And don’t worry about me. Your colors are bright enough,” she smirked playfully, and the mech looked down at his frame before laughing lightly.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he grinned, and then brought out a datapad, which, when activated, showed a hologram version of her papers. “I had Ratchet send me copies of their profiles—we figured it would make things easier. And I believe you said you already have some notes on where to put them?”

She nodded, shuffling the documents around, “Obviously, First Aid will be a medic, so he won’t be paired with anyone unless he wants to try learning from the human medics if they even allow that. I mean, he’s not another Ratchet, right?”

“By the Allspark, no!” the mech laughed. “In fact, I’d say he’s the exact opposite!”

“Ah, well that’s a good sign then. As for Hound, I figured reconnaissance would be best being that he’s a tracker. Beachbreak for marine warfare, and Warpath for the heavy artillery.”

Smokescreen tapped his chin thoughtfully, “That sounds good for all of them. I don’t have much information on the human groups, so I can’t speak for them. However, for Beachbreak I would suggest putting him with people who stick to routine. He can be a little… I believe the term is ‘OCD’? That’s the closest I can figure, but he likes to follow a strict routine when on duty, and any deviations can irk him. Warpath is essentially the opposite—he’s very flexible and doesn’t mind plans going wrong and being able to ‘wing it’. In fact, I dare say he loves and waits for it every time. He'll take any chance to blow something up. Hound is the calmest out of them all, and can be placed with anyone sensible, logical, and capable of conversations, which he _will_ have. Thankfully, they’re not nonsensical like Bluestreak’s, although generally pertain to the environment. If I were to humanize him, he would be an ‘environmentalist’, I believe.”

“Good. I had a feeling they were like that. Or, well, except for Beachbreak. That one might be a bit tougher, but I think we can work something… I’ll have to ask around I think. Anyways, I can probably scrounge up some notes on the humans to help you in on that.”

“It would be appreciated. I can also supply anything on the others personalities and habits if that helps, too.”

“That’d be cool. I’m guessing you were the ‘psychiatrist’ back on Cybertron, too?” she grinned a little, and he smiled, bemused.

“You could say that. I knew how to… ‘work’ with everyone. It came in handy when playing any betting games. If you had been there before the war you’d find I was rather infamous for being exceptional at them.”

“Oh, Good Lord. I will never play you at poker then.”

He laughed this time, “The others won’t, either, despite my asking. They still remember my swindling them of much of their Energon. Ah, but we are getting off topic, aren’t we? Granted, I suppose there’s not much to talk about now since we both still have much research to do, hmm?”

“Preeetty much, and assigning mechs to human groups isn’t really all that difficult to be honest. The tough stuff will come when we have issues to solve between them. _That_ I will definitely need help on if it really starts to escalate. I mean, I’ve been able to handle things now, but it’s mostly because events have played out favorably—like with Knock Out and that Brent bastard. Next time might not be so lucky,” the redhead frowned, hoping that asshole was suffering big time in his new location.

“Ah, yes, I heard of that. There are still murmurs of animosity here and there, but it’s definitely died down since then. And I’d be happy to help with that. Similar cases happened a lot on Cybertron when Decepticons wished to become neutrals or join the Autobots. I was often able to stop conflicts, but not always, like with Drift. Poor fellow—could barely get anyone to even talk with him until he joined the Wrecker’s under Kup’s leadership.”

“It can’t be helped. Jeez—it’s crazy how you guys seem so human sometimes. I mean, we act so similar in so many cases.”

“Perhaps our races are not different after all,” he grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his optics.

She grinned back, “I guess not. I’ve only been trying to get everyone to see that for what seems like forever now.”

“Well, perhaps I can help with that?”

“Perhaps. Although I guess you should probably learn about some of the people here first… and maybe humans in general if you already hadn’t.”

He leaned back, “I admit, I’ve only done the basic researcher, but I’ll definitely look into it now.”

“Just a head’s up—don’t look up our reproduction or anything remotely related to it. Ask me or Lennox or, well, just ask me, I guess. Or maybe Wikipedia, but, for the love of God—Do. Not. Google. It. _Please_!”

“Alright, alright!” he laughed. “I promise I won’t. I guess I’ll need to get started then. Adjourn until next time?”

“Sounds good. I’ll confirm with you on the grouping decision, so give me a few days,” she nodded and moved towards his held out hand, which he used to gently lower her to the ground.

“Affirmative. I will no doubt need as much time to learn more about your race. Until then.”

“Yeah. See ya!” she called, waving, as she heading to the door, which he had left open.

Catherine stepped out into the hall with a smile, glad she finally had someone reasonable and easy to get along with as a partner again. It was especially nice with Marissa leaving, which she felt sad about for a moment before shaking it off and steeling herself. Her mentor and friend would not want her to be moping around about it or feeling sad. Besides, she had Galloway to contend with and any weakness was unacceptable, so she would be fine. Smokescreen would be helping her, too, and he was a smart mech. They would make a good liaison team, especially once he learned more about humans. She just really, _really_ hoped he headed her warning about their reproduction. The Autobots didn’t need to know about porn.

She shook the thoughts away, turning them back towards work. As she’d told Smokescreen, she would take a few days to decide who exactly would get the new Autobots as their “guardian”—as she liked to call it—and in the meantime she also had some work to do. While Marissa had done much of it for her on her break, there were still some things to look through that the woman hadn’t gotten to, but also things she personally needed to see to. One was rejecting yet another bid for a mixing of human and Cybertronian technology, although more carefully played to sound not like it was asking that. Thankfully it was the only one in a while, so she had some hope the request were finally dying down and the politicians were finally getting it through their thick skulls that the treaty was _not_ going to change.

“You’d think the shard would be enough even though it’s fa—,” she sighed aloud, but was cut off as she stepped into an open hallway and three shapes—one pink, one green, and the last turquoise—caught her eye. She turned and raised a brow at the scene before her: Arcee, Chromia, and Springer all huddle behind a nearly fully closed door, peering through the opened slit at something standing in one of the many hangers. While it was a funny thing to see—all three leaning over one another like kids looking at something they shouldn’t—it was also _very_ curious, and so she couldn’t help but walk over.

“So,” she began, startling all three and nearly getting herself squished by a wheel. She managed to retain her cool as the three calmed down. “What are we all staring at?”

“Shh! You’re going to get us caught!” Arcee hissed, using the human gesture for the command before turning back to the door.

“And if you must know—it’s Prime and Elita,” Chromia added, also turning back.

She perked up at once and stepped around the two femmes, “Whoa, whoa—what?”

“Just shut-up and listen!” Springer also hissed, and while normally she would have made some sort of comeback, she did as told and stared.

The hanger was one of the smaller ones, but it was plenty big enough for both Autobot Commander and unofficial-official leader of the Femme Unit. Both stood, standing across from one another not too far, but not too close either. It was as if they wanted to be closer, but they couldn’t—something blocked them. And if their body language wasn’t enough, their optics were like windows. There was something swimming in the blue light; some deep scar and wall that was nigh impossible to cross, though they were trying. Elita-1 suddenly looked up and opened her mouth, but it was Cybertronian that came out. Catherine cursed, unable to translate.

“What are they saying?” she asked softly, and she heard an exasperated sigh right before Arcee picked her up none-too-gently and set her on her shoulder.

“Here, just listen to my comm. link,” she stated quickly before focusing again on her sister and leader. Catherine leaned close, straining to hear the low-level, translated words coming through the pink-armored femme’s “ears”, so to speak. She could just barely make it out.

_“I… have considered what you wrote, Optimus,”_ Elita-1’s voice spoke softly, her optics falling for a moment as she stayed where she stood.

Optimus looked as though he wished to move closer, but also remained still, _“I am glad. Regardless of your answer, I am still glad. And I am sorry. I never had the chance to tell you on Cybertron, but—“_

_“I know you are. You’ve always been, though I was too upset to realize. You had just changed so drastically—become so like the thing we wished to quell,”_ she replied, looking up at him with such a flicker of pain that Catherine did not need her powers to understand its full depth. She felt her chest ache a little with empathy.

_“I… I know,”_ the Autobot commander whispered weakly, and in that moment he appeared so strange; so alien. He was not the mech the redhead new before the smaller, purple-armored femme. _“I was no better than my brother in that time. I was foolish and blinded by rage. I—we had all been betrayed, and I could not stand for it. But I have changed, Elita, and my brother is dead. I am not the mech you once abhorred.”_

_“Optimus,”_ she sighed, and her arm moved as if to reach out, but stopped. _“I never_ abhorred _you. I was… disappointed, yes, but I never abhorred you. And I know you’ve changed. You’ve become a great mech.”_

His optics brightened a little and this time he stepped closer, _“Then… perhaps… there is still—perhaps your spark…”_

_“We have both changed, Optimus. I… am not the femme you knew. This spark is not the one that once called to yours. This body has died and been reborn something new— surely your spark can sense this.”_

_“My spark senses that you are wrong—it still reaches for yours and it always will, Elita. It matters not what you might be; you are still Elita-1 here,”_ he replied, gently setting a hand over her spark chamber. The femme let it rest there for a few, precious moments before lifting it gently and holding it in her own hands, so much smaller than his imposing, scarred ones.

_“Am I, Optimus? Are you sure even know who I am, anymore? Do you even know_ what _I am? Do you know I can feel my sisters as if their emotions and actions were my own? Do you know I relish in the death of a Decepticon as much as them? Do you know how much I have suffered and slaughtered? Do you know the empty hollowness that is_ death _? Do you?”_

_“No, I do not,”_ he replied, but before she could pull away, he closed his hand around hers and brought his other to cover the grip. She looked up at him, her optics swelled with an unimaginable throng of emotions that Catherine could hardly comprehend it with her sight alone. _“But I wish to. I wish to know you again, Elita. I know the femme that was always by my side on our home world is there, and I will find her even if takes me until all are one. I will do this and more, should you only let me. Please, Elita. Let us, at the very least, try.”_

Elita-1 met his optics, both glowing a dim blue in the hangar, but hiding a brightness that shone greater than any sun within them. Their hands remained clasped, and no sounds passed between them save the soft whirr of their gears and parts. Not even the mech and femmes around Catherine made a sound, and she made a point to hold her breath, or rather she supposed she’d forgotten how to breathe. The silence was deafening and the redhead longed to watch the two draw closer, to see the love that was so clear between them burst with a glorious radiance.

A flicker of a smile appeared on the femme’s faceplates, _“Let us try.”_

Catherine had hoped to see the rest, but both femmes turned away, and Springer followed in suit. She turned to look back, but she could no longer see properly through the slit of the door, and her carrier had no intentions of stopping or letting her continue to listen to the conversation. She frowned, disappointed, but said nothing as the three Cybertronians made their way down the hall and around the corner. Only then did Chromia come beside Arcee on the same side the redhead sat, and looked to her.

“Elita-1 asked for us to be there for support. She no longer needs us now, so we leave,” the turquoise femme explained, and Catherine nodded with understanding, though frowned as a question came to mind.

“Wait—then why was Springer there and why let me in on it?”

“Springer happened to be with me and got too curious,” Arcee explained, casting a harsh glance up at the green mech, who shrugged with a grin. “As for you—it is not so different, actually. We also trust you, and it would have been rude to simply have you stand there and not know what they were saying. Elita-1 does not mind, either.”

“Oh. Well… thank-you, then. For trusting me. That was… that was nice. I’m happy for them,” the redhead smiled sincerely and warmly.

“Don’t get too excited. They’ve still got a long way to go,” Springer spoke up, though his voice was hopeful more than anything else.

Chromia raised an optic ridge, “And since when are you an expert on such things, Wrecker?”

“It’s Optimus and Elita. We all know how slow they were back on Cybertron, before…” he paused to glance at the two femmes, rethinking his word choice. “…everything. They’re going to take forever again. It’s just how they are. Not so unlike you, Chromia, and a certain frontline warrior.”

She hummed dangerously, “Watch yourself. I don’t need Ironhide to show you how to keep your audio processor shut.”

The green mech just grinned a little, but shut his trap. Arcee, however, was not disheartened by her sister and so looked over with a bemused grin.

“When are you and the big guy going to finally go through with it? We’ve only been waiting for vorns now,” the pink femme purred, and, had she not been there, Catherine was very sure Chromia would have taken a swing at her sister.

“That is none of your concern!” she huffed and wheeled off faster to the next intersection of hallways, though stopped at the corner to turn back, suddenly with a grin. “Besides, we’ve already bonded.”

Then the femme was gone, leaving both Arcee and Springer standing, speechless. Then they started to move. Catherine literally had to yell to get the femme to put her down first—having nearly flown off at a dangerous speed. As soon as she was safely down, both mech and femme raced after the laughing turquoise-armored sister, leaving Catherine to stare in the direction they had gone for a few moments before bursting into laughter. She was crying by the time she finally calmed down, though couldn’t stop the giggle that came out every so often on the way back to her work room. And when she was there and she’d settled back into her chair, the only thing she could think was that it was very, _very_ good to be back. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _And that's a wrap! For this chapter, of course. :)_

_Righto. So. Yeah. 'Cat STILL can't make those sparks just right. She can't see to find that place where they're at ;) And Marissa is, at long and horribly last, is leaving NEST. Sorry folks, but Galloway's coming in and he's going to be an ass about it! :/_

_We've also got a few new bots! Warpath, Hound, First Aid, and Beachbreak! I personally kind of like Warpath. Hound I'm using for a few things that show up in DOTM- particularly Energon sensors, which I think humans would have some trouble making on their own, so why not the best known Autobot tracker? And then First Aid- Ratchet's prodigal son, essentially, ha ha. In this universe he's not really a combiner, so no Protectobots or whatever. And then Beachbreak, a mech invented for the live-action continuity. If anyone's read Veiled Threat, you know about him._

_Now. Enough about them. So, yes, the Autobots do have Holoforms/Holograms, however you want to put that. It IS cannon, too. However, they're not exactly "physical", as Catherine showed by poking her pencil through Smokescreen's. They can "phase" through walls, so to speak, and whatever scientific thing I put in there._

_Lastly. Elita-1, Optimus Prime, Chromia, and Ironhide. So, unfortunately, Elita-1 and Prime are NOT getting together... yet. There really is a lot of slag between those two. It is CANNON as well, so just keep an eye on that~_

_Oh, and one last note- her team knows about the deal with her parents now. I vaguely hinted it, but now they know Lennox basically "adopted" her as his kid, and that she left her old family and whatever. Just in case that pops up in the future._

_Hope that's enough surprise for you all guys, 'cause we got about a YEAR time skip coming up! And ROTF starts! :D_


	41. Where'd All the Time Go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is by Dr. Dog~
> 
> (**This is a prose-heavy chapter, unfortunately. Had to get through a long time skip from APRIL TO AUGUST. Pretty decent time skip, so be aware.**)

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine didn’t know how or why, but once Marissa had gone, time started to fly by. She supposed it could have been because she was just busy along with everyone else, but it was like there was suddenly less time every day. It wasn’t because she was swamped with work, either—in fact; there was a distinct decrease in paperwork for her to do as the days became months. There were fewer requests for technology; less request for items from the Autobots; less problems from the monkeys in D.C. It was nice, to be honest, and it helped a little that no more new recruits were being spotted besides the four that had arrived, which always meant less paperwork.

It also helped that the four were fitting in rather _perfectly_. None of them were causing problems with their groups—not even Beachbreak, whom Smokescreen and warned would have the most potential to do so. Apparently his group was keen on sticking to routine, so she was glad she chose correctly. Hound was doing well, and the reconnaissance team appreciated his tracking abilities which literally made their job infinitely easier. When tested, his range could reach essentially ten times the distance their own radars could, and he could detect Energon signatures, so that helped even more. The engineers were having a fun time asking him about how it worked to fix their own creations, and he was glad to help.

Normally, she might have made a fuss as that was, in a way, sharing Cybertronian technology, but after having a discussion with both the tracker and Prime she learned he was just giving them advice and explaining what his sensors were detecting, so it was fine. She didn’t know how the politicians didn’t raise a racket, but whatever the reason, she was glad nothing had come up.

Warpath was one of the better additions, and not just because of his immense firepower. The guy was a _blast_ —and not just in the literal sense. Many of the soldiers enjoyed his personality, which was rough and demanding for action, which was almost an exact copy of many of the soldiers. Catherine also suspected the troops loved how he added a “boom” or “kablam” or some explosion-like sound to everything he said. There was always a chuckle or two when the mech spoke, and he was, thankfully, very happy to work with the humans and found their weaponry fascinating, although lacking greatly in comparison to his own, but no one could really argue—he did have a tank for a chest.

And then there was First Aid. Oh, First Aid. Smokescreen hadn’t been kidding about him. In fact, he may have been understating the fact the medical mech was the _complete_ opposite of Ratchet. While the Chief Medical Officer was brash-venturing-on-rude, essentially angry all the time on the outside, and deprived of any patience, First Aid was a complete and utter saint! The mech _never_ got annoyed or angry with anyone. It was almost insane how easy going and kind the mech was. He was rather soft spoken, too, and she even dared to say shy, especially around humans. He was definitely more interactive with them than Ratchet, but his best quality came with the fact he made their CMO happy. It was scary—even Jolt thought so— but the day the red-and-white mech had begun working in the Medbay, Ratchet almost always had a smile on his face and the atmosphere of the Medbay was almost sickeningly uplifting. There were definitely less wrenches thrown and tempers run, and suddenly everyone wasn’t so afraid to enter the room.

All in all, NEST was very lucky to have gotten who they received, although there was one mech who had been disappointed. Sideswipe had hoped to learn something of his brother, but while Warpath and Hound could remember seeing him, it was Vorns ago on some shipyard planet. It was disheartening, of course, though he refused to show it even to Catherine. However, he kept his hopes up knowing his brother was still alive and he would arrive eventually. It was inevitable the mech would come to where he was—it was a Twin thing, he had said—and his brother would get Optimus' call eventually, too. She’d still tried to cheer him up, and spending some time just talking about random things had helped even if only a little.

Granted, that was when she actually managed to find time to hang out with them, and as the summer rolled in, it grew less. It had started early May, not long after she’d learned Sam had been accepted into Princeton College—something she heartedly congratulated on and almost couldn’t believe—and had to deal with the most annoying, ungrateful, and rude human being on the planet: Theodore Galloway.

The man was taking his job as the human NEST liaison very seriously, flaunted the fact he was chosen by the President, and whipped out his authority whenever he felt it would get him what he wanted. Generally, it did, in regards to access to information NEST did or planned to do. She suspected it was his way of getting back for all the denials she’d given him, and for the fact he had absolutely no direct access to Autobot affairs. That had _finally_ been struck home with the help of Smokescreen who had studied the treaty to where not even the things hidden beneath the other hidden things weren’t unknown to him. With his aid, she had effectively stopped the arrogant man’s attempts to swindle his way into Autobot business, which was her, Smokescreen’s, and Prime’s divisions. 

Still, the man was not one to be swayed or put down, and he created more grievances in his own way. Thankfully most of it was by phone or e-mail, which she could easily ignore and essentially had an “automatic” response to send every time. When he was on the island—which was generally only one or two days of every month—he was generally just in the Command Center, as he seemed to be appalled by the mere _thought_ of visiting the Autobot side. Of course, that meant she had to take valuable time out of her day to walk all the way down to said hangar and have some sort of conversation about NEST plans and their intentions and what they were doing about the Decepticons. Morshower was _always_ there, thankfully, and normally so was Lennox or Prime, so she had plenty of back-up when he asked something she either didn’t have enough information on yet or there wasn’t a good way for her to put the answer diplomatically or when she was ready to rip his face off. By God he was a persistent, ass-hole of man.

Luckily, her team and most all of NEST were not like Galloway. In fact, in her time away and in the following summer things between races had gotten amazingly better. She almost always found a group of humans walking with an Autobot or two, having some kind of conversation, or in the hangars happily training, or having a “live” match in the simulation hangar. Any dissent was almost unheard of, or just as whispers from a small minority of people who were still uncomfortable with alien robots or had some misgivings due the consequences of Mission City. She expected it, of course, and let it slide so long as they didn’t start another “Brent incident”. Granted, with so many people actually enjoying the Autobots’ company and treating them like _people_ instead of _things_ , she didn’t see that happening for a long time if ever, and she supposed it wouldn’t be long before that minority would join the majority. Well, except for maybe one person.

Catherine honestly hadn’t meant for things to go the way they did. She had later asked Sam and she told her that was normal and that she’d totally let a good opportunity go, and then noted how ironic the situation was. When she thought about it, she knew her friend was right and felt a little bad. She had completely missed all the signs, too, which had now become so obvious to her.

Still, she had been surprised when Michael has suddenly come up in June and asked her to go out with him. While it certainly wasn’t so forward, she got the picture, and, although she tried as best as she could to let him down gently, the young man took it poorly. He’d blamed the Autobots at once, though she knew it was just because he’s was upset and angry she’d rejected him, but she honestly did not like him in that way. She was sad to lose a friend outside of her team and the Autobots—he had taken up ignoring her—but that was how it was. She supposed he was right that she spent an unusual amount of time with the Autobots, but the mechs and femmes were her friends and family, just like Lennox and her team, and she had been trying to even it out, but she just sometimes preferred the Autobot’s company over the others.

It was easier to admit the fact than it probably should have been, although it didn’t really apply to her teammates. While, yes, the majority of NEST was full of wonderful people and she could happily call them friends, she just _liked_ the Autobots more. She always felt like she had more connection to them, and not simply because she was the Allspark. She often thought back to what she said to Agent Simmons, and she stood firm behind it—the Autobots were, at times, more human than her own race. She also felt at home. With them, it was like when she was at the ranch with Sarah and Lennox and Annabelle and Sam and his family. With them she could be herself—no secrets; no worries; no fears; nothing. And that’s what she wanted. That was what she needed. So she went after it. And when her team started to come over to join her on the Autobot side, it was even better. It was complete. Her father, all her uncles, and brothers, and sisters, and grandpas, and cousins, and nephews, and—and Sideswipe. Her enigma. The only that couldn’t be placed, but belonged, and she wanted and needed to be around.

And so things were happy around the base. Despite Galloway’s ugly head popping in every so often, it was essentially paradise on the island. She could only remember being so happy on the ranch and when spending time with Sam, and when she realized that, she knew life was good. Although, the feeling that something might break the spell existed within it, and a few months later, in October, she was right.

The Decepticons were spotted again, this time in a more public place than before, and so NEST was sent out at once with Hound, Ironhide, and the Triplets. Morshower and Prime were both intent on catching an enemy unit for interrogation, and he’d sent his best for that. Granted, Catherine knew the Triplets would have gone if only because Chromia and Ironhide were inseparable now that they’d bonded—there had been a lot of joy and teases around the base the following week. Regardless, they had gone and it was a short, tense week before they returned, scratched and bruised, but with prisoner in tow.

Unlike Barricade, the ‘Con had not vouched for neutrality, and, in fact, had spat in Ironhide’s face at the thought, which had made it light’s out for the mech. Interrogations started at once, led by Jazz and accompanied by Smokescreen and even Blazemaster, whose corrosive gels proved effective in getting the enemy to squeal. They had to barter for more information towards the end—neutrality for more, but the ‘Con refused, and, with a single Energon blast, the mech was dead. The event made Catherine frown for only a moment, having forgotten briefly these were mechs of war, but shook it off knowing that this was _war_ and the Decepticons were the enemy—if he remained alive he would have been a liability they couldn’t afford.

What they learned from him, however, was valuable, although not very much. Two of their suspicions had been confirmed—the Decepticons were working for Starscream and they were looking for something. However, there was one disturbing thought: It was not _just_ Starscream they took orders from. They turned to Barricade for advice, the neutral having since become willing to try and help since he had been granted his “conditions”. He could only guess, but he gave them one name: Soundwave. While Catherine had no information on the mech, the others did, and it was obvious that if Soundwave was part of the picture, things were going to become a _lot_ harder. They also still had no idea _what_ they were looking for.

Barricade had truly tried—Knock Out and Gears had been helping due to their apparent hidden knack for hacking into comm. channels that made everyone else a bit wearier about their privacy, and so vouched for the neutral—but he could not manage to pry his way into any Decepticon chatter. He also reminded them that Megatron had only come searching for the Allspark—if anything else were on the planet, his ex-leader had not said anything, and so he did not know. He was thanked for his assistance and left to continue his work with the two Autobots in attempting to find more about the Decepticons’ activity. 

Unfortunately, that had been all they found out. The ‘Con hadn’t given away where they were coming from, and Hound had been unable to follow the trail of those that escaped, so they’d only been able to take a few steps forward. They would keep searching for as long as it took, but in the meantime life would resume as it had. Of course, not without a few bits of excitement here and there, both good and bad.

Then as December rolled in, Ratchet finally finished his machine. The entire base knew it, too, as soldiers all the way on the opposite side could swear they heard loud shouting at the same time the medic and his assistants has successfully altered Earth metal into Cybertronian. The process was a little slow and still needed some tweaks, but the matter of the fact was that they had _done_ it. All the months of frustration and disappointments had been worth it, and Ratchet showed it by all but prancing around the Medbay with joy. That is, until things got awkward.

Catherine had come as soon as she heard the good news, and ended up fairly surprised when the medic scooped her up and nearly twirled her around in his hand. However, Jolt had enough sense and good enough timing to snatch her away from the overjoyed medic and hold her out of harm’s way, while First Aid looked on with a mixture of joy and fearful confusion at his mentor’s unnatural display. Thankfully, the newest medic had been informed of Catherine being the Allspark—he had taken it with curiosity but professionalism, too, and knew not to tell—so when Ratchet shouted about how she needn’t worry about having to use her powers and blow her cover, the red-and-white medic wasn’t fazed at all.

Bluestreak, however, was a different story. The Chief Medical Officer had completely forgotten the gray-armored, young mech was there, and so when he asked about Catherine’s “powers” the room got _very_ quiet, and then the redhead shrugged and figured why the hell not tell him? He’d end up asking around and making things worse anyways. 

And that was how Bluestreak came to know she had powers and also discovered one of the darker sides of Ratchet. If the young mech so much as let slip that Catherine was “special” Ratchet would personally make his life a living hell—or “Pit”—as he said. How he planned to, he didn’t say out loud, but judging by the increasing look of alarm and fear on Bluestreak’s face, the redhead knew a wonderfully gruesome explanation had gone on through the comm. link. Needless to say, the young mech quickly swore to keep the secret, and also promised Catherine he wouldn’t treat her any different. For one, it would make the others curious, and the other being the redhead didn’t want anything to change. He did a good job of that, too, and she honestly thought they were a bit closer for it.

Bluestreak was, luckily, the only one of those mishaps. That did make quite a few mechs and femmes who knew about her though—Prime; Ironhide; Jazz; Ratchet; Jolt; First Aid; Elita-1; Chromia; Sideswipe; Steeljaw; and now Bluestreak. They were all mechs to be trusted, of course. Or, in Steeljaw’s case, a quadruped, but, regardless, she wasn’t worried about anything bad happening with all of them knowing. Lennox was still the only human on base who knew, and she had no doubts he would never tell anyone else. She sometimes wanted to tell the rest of her team, but there was more than just the fear of accidental slips that kept her from doing so.

Of course, all the while time still moved on quickly, tugging Catherine and everyone else along with it. The Autobots continued to become more deeply integrated with their human friends, and some had begun form bonds like hers with the humans. Hound was especially so—he found their race simply _fascinating_ —and even Blazemaster finally found a friend or two despite his erratic and dangerous characteristics. Even some of the other illusive mechs finally seemed to come of their shell. It was almost like magic how she walked in to training hangar and poof—Nightbeat, Swerve, Scattershot, and Rollbar were all standing together with their human groups chatting it up like they’d always done that when she was pretty sure she’d almost _never_ seen them together. Granted, she was generally busy with the same ‘bots so she rarely ever saw them or even Evac, Gears, and Knockout, too. It made her feel a little bad, but she was glad they had human friends. As for another two mechs, well, she wasn’t sure if she should be happy or not, but Skids and Mudflap—by some unbelievable miracle—had procured two friends.

She once asked the soldiers if they were being bribed, but they had genuinely laughed and said no—they just found the two really freaking funny. Whatever the reason, it was keeping the two morons from trying to impress her and be idiots around her. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she'd felt the fear of the threat of their presence bothering her. She’d wished the two humans luck and then essentially skipped away, finally free from the Twin Terrors.

Brawn, oddly enough, was the only mech to not really gain new friends. Ratchet was a given "no-human-zone", Prime was considered "leaders-only" territory, and Ironhide was the grumpy teacher so everyone was just his student, which made the Mini-bot the only older mech who’d yet to really get attached to anyone. Catherine figured it was his grumpy demeanor. Even _she_ had trouble getting in a good conversation with him before he’d shrug her off with some excuse and go away. Both Ironhide and Springer had assured her that was fine and normal—he was a fighter, not a talker. He made friends and fun on the battle field. She understood, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was lonely sometimes. Of course, that would be blown out of the roof whenever he was chatting with the likes of Ironhide and Warpath. In fact, he was generally almost _always_ with those, too, so after a while she did stop worrying.

Of course, things couldn’t stay good forever. December was a month of merriment with Christmas celebrated on base with feasts and home-made gifts exchanged or calls made overseas. The same happened in January during which her birthday was celebrated not only by her family and human friends, but also the Autobots. She’d even received a wonderful “Happy Birthday” call from Sam and Bumblebee via R2, whom was fitting in well and acting like the perfect little Cybertronian, especially with the yellow Autobot’s help. However, the joy stumbled as February rolled in, and the mayhem that followed was only a few mishaps short of a disaster for NEST.

Catherine figured she must have had a premonition or something, because she had trouble sleeping the night it happened. She eventually got fed up with trying, and so decided to walk around or see who was on duty and maybe chat a little. Instead, she got the surprise of her life when she heard a scream—a _human_ scream— come from down the hall. She burst into a sprint at once, and nearly tumbled and fell as she saw an older male clothed in NEST gear rush out of the Medbay, dropping a camera as he did so, only to be snatched up by a green-armored hand. It belonged to a rather pissed off Springer, whom she had to shout at to stop from squeezing the life out of the human. He thankfully loosened his grip, but there was no getting away for the human, and so the ex-Wrecker explained through his seething audio processor how he caught the man rummaging through the Medbay and taking pictures of everything—in the dark. The man was a thief, although the accused vehemently objected. However, nothing was to be said as human soldiers and other Autobots made their way to them and a fuss was starting to pick up.

It was only the intervention of Lennox that really settled things down. He asked what had happened and from there he got everyone moving: bystanders were sent back to their duty or rooms, the young man was taken into custody along with his camera, and Springer was sent to Prime’s office for questioning. Catherine was told to put proper gear on—there was going to be trouble coming and she would probably have to talk to some higher-up people along with Morshower. The redhead almost wished she hadn’t left her room, but she got dressed up anyways, and, sure enough, Lennox soon called about Galloway demanding to talk to her and NEST. She’d asked him how the asshole had found out so quickly, but he didn’t know, and she could only curse and hurry to Optimus’ room to get him and Springer. Thankfully, they were already on their way along with Smokescreen and all four of them entered the Control Center where Galloway was on screen with a few other unknown men, all of them fancy suits. Morshower was on his own screen as well, and he was not happy. Neither was the thief they had handcuffed to a railing in front of them by one hand, as the other was in a sling, sprained.

The following hours passed by agonizingly slow as Galloway ranted on about the Autobots wounding an innocent man and that there should be reprisal for it—specifically sharing technology. Of course, he hadn’t said that directly. He knew never to do that, but they all knew it was what they wanted. To make matters worse, the men behind him were representatives of a few other, smaller countries bidding on getting some of the technology themselves, and so concurred and even made a point on how Autobots harming humans was breaking the treaty. NEST and the Autobots, of course, disagreed and gave their side, telling how the human was a thief and that his trying to steal their technology was a violation of the treaty and that the harm was accidental. The humans weren’t going to buy it, of course, and promised they would see to the President about it before leaving in a huff. Worry was evident on everyone’s faces, but Morshower held confident things would go how they want. The culprit was taken away and Springer was dismissed, but all else stayed. They had work to do.

It took many hours and many cups of something to keep them awake, but they managed to find some leverage. For one, there was no file on the man at all in the NEST systems. He wasn’t even a soldier, which begged the question of how he was here and who he worked for. The first guess was obviously Galloway, but they decided not to jump too quickly. Next was thanks to a combination of Smokescreen and the General’s doing—the Autobot had suggested it, and the older man had gotten in touch with the other countries aiding NEST, such as the U.K., and it turned out they would _gladly_ back NEST in the event the Autobots had to pull out from America and the other countries aiming for Cybertron tech. Those that respected the Autobots enough to _not_ demand the technology would be enough to keep NEST going, and both the General and Lennox were confident it would do the trick—the American government wouldn’t want to lose their supposed “trump” cards over the other countries.

It turned out it was all they needed. As soon as the evidence was laid out and the Autobots threatened to pull out of the treaty with America and the countries siding with them and _only_ them, Galloway all but ran with his tail between his legs. The culprit was returned to the states to be jailed, and Springer was let off free with but a warning to be more careful. It had been a close call, but they had thankfully made it through. Granted, there was some backlash—a handful of soldiers were nervous around Springer and few others, but they eventually got over it.

The incident was the worst of the mishaps, and the rest didn’t need more than a quick explanation and time to get over, for which Catherine was extremely grateful. She really did not want the extra work. She was also grateful for the time passing by so quickly for once—it let March come early along with her break. Leaving was much like before; the team came and said their good-byes, and this time they didn’t bother Lennox about her leaving with him. They understood now that’d he’d explained things, and whole-heartedly agreed, though often teased the Commander about sharing their “kid”, as she had become to be called although she was now eighteen—twenty according to NEST. 

Sideswipe and Jazz accompanied them once again, and with time passing so fast they found themselves at the ranch in no time, Sarah waiting for them with open arms, a walking Annabelle, and a hearty meal. It was going to be two weeks of heaven, and since Sam was on Spring Break, it was increased tenfold. They had as much fun as possible, including Bumblebee since they did things he could interact with them in. Even Mikaela joined, but Catherine couldn’t help but notice she never had as much fun. In fact, the redhead dared say the dark-haired girl was _never_ happy when she was around. She couldn’t see why—jealousy couldn’t have been an option; she and Sam were best friends; they were family, not girlfriend and boyfriend. That would have been weird. Whatever the case, Catherine ignored it in favor of having fun.

She had her share of fun with her family, too, of course, and especially with her two Autobot companions. Jazz was always a blast and always there to help her with her powers, which were still frustratingly confusing since she had yet to get anywhere towards finding that “place”. She pressed on with it, though, and she had support from both Sam and Sideswipe. The silver mech was her best support, too, and also her greatest form of enjoyment. Every moment with him was wonderful. She loved to hear about his brother especially, whom he had finally gotten around to talking openly about. It made her want to meet him badly one day. Of course, he listened to her, too, and unlike when they had first met, he was genuinely interested in her words. He even added in his own input or made some quip that would make her laugh. And she loved every bit of it.

Catherine prayed with all her might to let those few weeks slow to a creeping halt, but it was not to be. It seemed like she barely even blinked and the time was gone and she was saying good-bye to Sam, his parents, Sarah, and Annabelle all over again. As always, it was a sad parting, but they would be back soon enough. At the base, they were again welcomed back warmly and with water bottles and yet a third interesting surprise—another new arrival!

He went by Longarm and Smokescreen had done her a wondrous thing and finished all the paperwork for her, leaving it only to be turned in. He even whipped up some notes about who best to put him with. He was a veteran of sorts with the personality of a chummy, nice guy, and was already getting along swimmingly with Brawn and some of the more seasoned soldiers, and since he was heavy-built fighter much like Ironhide, she put him with a front liner group. He didn’t know much about Sunstreaker either, but this time Sideswipe wasn’t dishearten by it at all, and shrugged it off with ease, assured his brother would come soon enough. Thankfully Longarm was the only new arrival, so things were fairly easy, and Catherine didn’t have much to do now that she was back.

She should have known, though, that a higher power was at work and apparently intent on never letting her have a good time. More Decepticons started to show, and this time Starscream was sighted somewhere in Africa. The Autobots couldn’t pass up the opportunity, and a team headed by Lennox, Epps, Prime, and Ironhide was formed and sent out. Beachbreak, Ratchet, Hound, Springer, Rollbar, and Nightbeat were brought along as well; their alternate forms useful for where they were going. It only took a few days for them to return, and they did so missing one mech. The mood around NEST fell for a while with the death of Beachbreak, but there wasn’t much time to mourn as more incidents were happening simultaneously in Peru and Australia. The original team added Longarm and Knockout to their list and then split, going off to both places.

Some of the others began to complain about not being taken—Chromia was an adamant protestor, not wanting to be away from her mate—but it was decided they still needed a large force at the base for protection, and most were quieted. Catherine often teased Sideswipe about not making a complaint, and was surprised to find he didn’t mind staying to protect her. Thankfully, nothing did come after their base, and in just a few days, the NEST team returned with scratches and bruises, but successful in stopping the Decepticon’s plans. What those were, they didn’t know for sure, but they had made it out safe with no more deaths. For that, Catherine was glad, but she couldn’t help feeling that the worst was yet to come, and that Starscream was the least of her worries.

She didn’t know how right she was.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine sighed as she kicked her legs lazily against the side of one of the Medbay’s many counters. It was Sunday, so she was having her latest “scan”, and Ratchet was going through the quick process of checking the data. She had come to figure out what certain things meant, such as what symbol stood for “no” and “yes” but that was the extent of her knowledge. Their language was rather difficult to master, and there was no way she could speak it. Regardless, Ratchet was the best to see about such things, although she could ask First Aid, too, but the mech was on break with Jolt, both getting themselves an Energon cube.

“Hmm,” the Autobot medic hummed, and she perked up a little, not sure if was a good or bad “hmm”. “According to this reading, the Energon is starting to seep into your muscle tissue, but that should happen since it’s bonded at the cellular level. It’s nothing to worry about—you’ll just find you have greater endurance, strength, and recovery time in your muscles.”

“Huh. Cool. So I’m turning into some kind of Superwoman then?” she grinned, standing up and punching at the air. “So will I be able to lift cars anytime soon? Maybe even give one of you guys a run for your Energon, yeah?”

He chuckled, “Hardly, Catherine. You will be stronger than an average person of your build, but certainly not super human. So don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, don’t get all ruffled. I wasn’t gonna, anyways,” she replied, waving him off.

“Good. We certainly don’t need you running off and breaking your hands.”

“Certainly not. That’d hurt,” she chuckled a little, then turned and spotted the device. “So. Is ‘ol Converter still workin’ okay?”

He turned and smiled, “Perfectly, in fact. Repairs are much easier now—and certainly more reassuring. I can rest easier knowing their metal is up to proper standards.”

“’Course, I’d help you out when I could, and, yes, yes—I know. Super risky, but I’d say we know how to be careful after all this time. Anyways, since that’s done I guess you want me to get out so you can get work done, although I have to wonder what ‘work’ is, considering no one’s hurt and I know for a fact you’ve checked everyone for the month.”

“You’re catching on, I see. But yes, I do have some work. I'm making extra repair materials and going to continue maintenance on the ‘Converter’ as you put it,” he replied, holding his hand out for her, and then lowered her down gently. “Seeing as the Decepticons are finally really showing themselves, I’ll be busier around here. I’ll need to start enhancing the others' armor, too.”

The redhead looked up and saw the far-off glimmer to the medic’s optics and she knew he was thinking of Beachbreak. He had been there in Africa—at the falls Beachbreak had tumbled over to his death. They had found the mech’s body later, but though he had tried and tried, there was nothing that could be done to save him. Still, Ratchet had continued on, assured there had to be something that might work. Such was his curse, and he suffered for it.

She touched his hand, “Ratchet…”

“I know,” he sighed softly, wrapping a few fingers around her tiny one. “It’s not my fault. I know. Now run along. It’s time for your break, and your stress levels are still a little high.”

He gave her a light nudge, which brought a quick grin to her face, and she left, knowing he would be okay for today. First Aid and Jolt would be back again soon, anyways, and they always helped him keep the thoughts away. 

In the meantime, she would find her way to the beach where the soldiers here had taken it upon themselves to make a “resort” of sorts where the lagoon of the island was. It was a grand place, built with beach chairs and umbrellas, and even a Tiki hut to sell drinks—water bottles with tiny cocktail umbrellas for fun--so that it made it seem like they were on vacation. It was where most everyone went on their breaks, and she was no exception. Some of the Autobots had taken up going there, too, and could act as lifeguard, shade, or just conversation.

She didn’t plan on swimming, so she was just going to get her casual clothes to chill and chat if she could. Or, she would have, if Sideswipe hadn't come rolling down the hall, nearly causing her to bump into him. He looked down when she yelped, apologized, and then helped her up, noting he had been looking for her.

She tilted her head, “What’s up? You’re all excited.”

“Well, you know we’ve had a lot of ‘Con activity,” he began, and she knew at once.

“Another sighting, and this time you’re on the hunting crew.”

He nodded, but then suddenly became very somber, “I think _he’s_ going to be there.”

“’He’… you mean… Demolisher?” she inquired, eyes widening a little, realizing the depth of the mission’s meaning for him.

“Yeah. And if I can, I’m gonna slag that fragger. He’s gotta go down. If I can’t finish him, then someone else better. I’m not going to let him get away,” the silver mech growled, and she placed a hand on the side of his helmet, calming his instantly, though she knew the rage still seethed deep within him.

“Just don’t let it take over and make you go crazy, okay? Don’t hurt anybody—just the ‘Cons, alright?” she spoke, firm, but soothing, and he raised a hand up to her, which she held with her hands.

“I promise I won’t. Those two idiots just better not get in my way, though,” he huffed, and Catherine’s mouth dropped a little.

“Wait—the _Twins_ are going? Is Prime _insane_?!” she all but screeched and the silver mech scowled.

“That’s what a lot of us are thinking, but Prime said they’ve wanted to prove themselves, and they _are_ better than they were before, so he wants to give them a chance. I swear—if they screw things up, though, I am going to offline them!”

“Knowing them, they’ll end up out of the way because they screw up,” she snorted, folding her arms.

He grinned a little, “Yeah, that’s for sure. At least I can count on Ironhide and the Triplets. _They_ can actually fight.”

“Ooh. Got some of the heavy hitters going. Anyone else?”

“I think Springer might be going, too. It depends on how many we might need. Prime and Lennox know we’re going to need power and numbers since we don’t know how many there are, but it’s in a pretty crowded, public area so it’s a hard pressed choice going on.”

“What’s the place again?”

Somewhere called… Uh, I think it was… ‘Shanghaied’? Something like that?” he replied, rolling out through the corridor between base sides and headed for the “porch” where the transporter plane was waiting for them. Around the plane she could already see Skids and Mudflap in their alternate forms, being loaded up. Behind them were the Triplets already in their motorcycle forms and Ironhide and Prime still as bipedal behind them.

“Shanghai? Well, damn. That’s in China. I can see why it’s a tough decision—there’s a butt-load of people there. Anyways, I'll let you get loaded up. Good luck!” she cheered as he rolled up near the other Autobots and helped her down. She stepped off and walked over to Lennox and Epps, whom were discussing what she assumed were the plans for their mission. They didn’t even skip a beat as she stepped in beside them, Sideswipe rolling on towards the plane.

“We lost track of the Decepticon signals about thirty minutes ago, but Hound’s pretty confident they’re still there. Whatever the case, we’ll find them when we get there, especially with the new toys the engineers cooked up for us,” the brown-haired man explained, using his head to gesture to one of the weapons crates near the back of the plane.

“Hopefully all the humans will have been evacuated by the time we get there, or I fear the Decepticons may strike early and cause greater damage,” Optimus mused, optics narrowing slightly.

“Yeah, man. I got a bad vibe knowing the ‘Cons are hiding in such a crowded place. It’s like they’re figuring this shit out,” Epps frowned, tightening his fists briefly.

“Well, you’ll just have to do what you can. Whatever happens, Smokescreen and I will deal with it. We’ve handled Galloway up until now. Not to mention we had collateral damage in Peru and Africa, and we came out okay. So just bring them down as fast as you can,” Catherine spoke up, giving her two teammates reassuring grins.

“We plan to,” Ironhide growled eagerly, his cannons humming within their subspace on his arms.

“I’d bring you back a souvenir, but you could just buy one at any Wal-Mart,” Lennox chuckled, grasping the redhead’s shoulder warmly. “We’ll try and be back as soon as we can with everyone in one piece. We’re bringing the usual comm. links so we’ll keep you updated through Teletraan.”

She nodded, “’Course. I’ll make sure and do back-seat commanding, too. Just look out for everyone alright? And, Ironhide? Don’t blow up too many buildings and streets.”

The black mech snorted, although he was grinning, and then turned and headed off to the plane. Epps and Lennox followed him, leaving her with Prime, whom looked down just as she looked up.

“Think we’ll finally get something out of these guys? I mean, that you mentioned that Kickback ‘Con talked about some ‘plan’ and ‘higher power’, but nothing definitive…”

“We will try. The Decepticons we face are ones not so easy to coerce into surrendering information, but they are arrogant, and perhaps we can trick them into doing so. Whatever they have planned, we will stop them,” he rumbled, and she nodded.

“I know. Now go kick some ‘Con butt for me, okay?”

He chuckled as he nodded and then he, too, left for the plane. Catherine stayed there, watching them for a minute more. She waved when Sideswipe did before transforming, and then returned back to her original plans to relax, all the while unable to stop the odd, dreading feeling in her stomach from growing. 

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**TMWolf:** So. _MAJOR time skip and prose heavy. Not super exciting, I know, but a lot of good stuff did happen! :)_

_I didn't expand on it much, but there IS a new recruit- Longarm. I kind of forgot he was in the Veiled Threat so I added him in real quick, ha ha ha herm... Ahem- er, well, yes, ANYWAYS. So now he's in. The other new recruits- Hound; Beachbreak; Warpath; and Firstaid- are all fitting in just fine, too~ Although there is still SOME unrest with the humans~_

_So there's some stuff going on with Mikeala, too. And Catherine is still wholly unaware of her secret love for a certain silver mech, oh ho ho ho ho~ Ah what a dork. She really needs to work on figuring that love stuff out, ha ha. She's taking WAY too long. Sideswipe obviously needs to amp up his flirting skills, too. tee hee._

_ANYWAYS. So. Time for ROTF everyone! And yes, the VEILED THREAT did happen. It was short, but so was the novel in terms of time I think. And yes, we have our first DEATH- Poor Beachbreak. And now we all know what the 'Cons are kind of up to, or we will the next chapter._

_I think that covers the major points ~3~ If anything got confusing or odd just ask and I'll straighten it out!_


	42. Twisted Logic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay this time~
> 
> I almost apologize in advance for this one xD

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“So Mr. Big shot is finally heading off for college. And _Princeton_ College, no less, with a scholarship for a free ride!” Catherine laughed into Teletraan’s speaker as she leaned back against the wall, her bed serving as a comfortable cushion for the rest of her. On her stomach, Cybermon and Blaster lounged peacefully, enjoying the affection she split between them.

_“Jealous much?”_ Sam’s voice smirked from R2’s end, and in the background she could hear the shuffling of items into cardboard boxes he was going to take with him. _“The scholarship was nice, although I feel as though some strings were pulled considering I didn’t apply for any.”_

She hummed, “Well, maybe you just have some _very_ good friends watching out for you somewhere who want to make sure you have a good life so you don’t feel inclined to talk about certain ‘event’s', but let’s not worry about that. Can’t have the rest of the peons getting envious from feeling left out. So how are your folks taking it? Or, well, how is your _mom_ taking it?”

_“How do you think? She looks like she’s going to burst into tears every second and keeps finding my old baby stuff. It’s freaking me out, man. Good thing we’re almost done packing. Not sure I can take any more of this.”_

“Aww, cut her some slack, Sammy. She’s losing her little boy. I know it’s hard to understand, being that you’re a guy, but try to emphasize a little,” she chuckled, switching to petting Blaster now, whom played a delighted tune in response as he rolled over. “At least they’ll be happy ‘Bee is going with you. I’ve heard rumors of him getting on their nerves—something about being a little _too_ protective?”

_“It was_ one _incident, I swear! I accidentally shocked myself, but he thought I was in danger so he transformed and freaked my parents out and… uh,_ maybe _messed up the garden a little. Thankfully it was at night, so the neighbors didn’t see. But, yeah, they weren’t happy. Oh, and, about ‘Bee going with me_ ,” he trailed off, and the redhead narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Sam…”

_“Apparently freshman can’t have cars,”_ he replied slowly, and before she could shout back, he added quickly, _“But I can bring him next year!”_

“That’s ridiculous! Oh man! Poor Bumblebee! He must be devastated!” she sighed, shaking her head with pity.

_“Yeah… He’s, uh, he’s been down lately, but it’s just for one year, and you know he’ll end up following me and hang out anyways.”_

“True. He’s too loyal and too good of a friend to just leave you alone, and, well, with ‘Con activity increasing…”

_“I know. I think that’s why he’s been so on the edge. How about you? Are_ you _okay?_ _I mean, I know you have all of those guys there to watch out for you, but I still worry,”_ he replied, the shuffling paused, and she smiled at his caring tone.

“Thanks, Sam, and, yes, I’m alright. Even those that don’t know I’m the Allspark would protect me, and the ‘Cons don’t know where this place is, so that helps.”

_“Well, that’s good. By the way, when is that team supposed to get back? You said something about them going to China a few days ago?”_ he inquired, returning to packing.

“They should be back soon—ah, in fact, I just got a message and,” she paused to pull back her drone and look at it, “it’s them alright. They’re apparently on their way back now—mission successful! Sideswipe said they have some new information, so maybe we can finally figure out what the ‘Cons are up to when they get back in… uh, I think three hours?”

_“Sweet. Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it later. Er, well, if you can, since you’re Ms. Top-Secret over there,”_ he snickered, and then let out a loud sigh of relief. _“Alright! Finally all done!”_

“I guess I should let you go then. I’m sure your Dad is eager to get you out,” she snickered back, leaning up slowly as she maneuvered her two drones into her lap.

He groaned, _“You have_ no _idea. But yeah… It is about time for me to head off. Don’t you have some super-secret NEST business to get to, anyways?”_

“Yeah… I guess I should head to the Command Center. If this new information is worth anything I’ll want to discuss it with General Morshower and Optimus.”

_“I’ll be sure to send you picture of the room and campus. Show you what you’re missing out on_ ,” he grinned back, and she laughed.

“Please. Nothing can beat tropical island paradise. Anyways, be safe and have fun, alright? I don’t want to have NEST fly me down to Princeton to save your sorry ass.”

_“Aw, c’mon, ‘Cat! Have some faith will you?”_

“Alright, alright,” she sighed, rolled her eyes and set the drones on the bed to swing her legs over the side. “I’ll talk to ya later.”

_“Sure. Now, I’ve gotta split—Dad is calling. Later!”_ he shouted back in the midst of shoving R2 into his pocket, and no doubt racing off to get his things to the car, all the while being heckled by Mr. Witwicky. Catherine grinned and shook her head at the thought as she stood and stretched. Her drones beeped and clicked for her attention, but she soon appeased them with a promise to be back in a bit—she just had to do some NEST business. They settled back down grumpily, and after tugging on her boots, she slipped out the door, only to pause as a wonderful surprised greeted her in the form of a large, metallic lion.

“Steeljaw!” she cooed, taking her youngest son’s head in her hands and nuzzling at his brow, eliciting an electronic purr from his throat. His mane’s panels flexed and relaxed multiple times as well, much like the door wings of some of the mechs did. “I see you’re on break, so what brings you this way?”

“I desire your company,” he rumbled back, presses his head into her stomach once she released his muzzle. “If that is not too much to ask of my creator.”

Catherine smiled as she cupped his cheek, “Not at all. It’s been a while since we spent some quality time. Although, I hope you don’t mind maybe spending it in the Command Center.”

“Ah, yes—the team will be returning soon,” he hummed, ears perking up. “I do not mind. The humans there are accustomed to my presence and are aware we are close.”

“Oh, come now, Steeljaw. No need to be so formal with your mother,” she laughed, and started walking. He trotted beside her, leaning close in such a way that she knew he wanted affection. Grinning, she began to stroke the armor behind his mane, which brought a pleased look to his mug.

“My apologies. I find I cannot be so informal. I suppose you could say it is part of my programming,” he mused, sending an apologetic look in the redhead’s direction. She waved it off, though.

“It’s fine. It makes you quite the gentlemen. Or, well, gentle quadruped, I suppose,” she chuckled. “Anyways, how’s your guard duty going? I haven’t really spoken with any of the soldiers directly, but there’ve been no complaints either.”

“My human co-workers are exceptional and quite fun, if I do say so myself. They have even requisitioned rides from me before—particularly the young woman called Breanna. She’s rather keen on the action. I enjoy it myself, of course, and it’s the least I could do to repay their kindness. They have always treated me well and as part of the team despite my… non-human appearance.”

Catherine smiled as she squeezed his neck in an odd hug, “I’m really glad to hear that, Steeljaw. I was actually a little worried starting out, but it looks like you’re going to be okay. Of course, if they dared hurt my kid they’d find my foot up their ass!”

“Thank-you, although I doubt that would happen if only due to anatomy and the fact it would do no good to your credit,” he chuckled, flashing a toothy grin. “What of you, Catherine? While I am now able to sense your feelings better, it is still difficult to fully ascertain them.”

“Don’t you worry, boy. Besides Galloway being an ass and rising Decepticon activity, everything going just fine,” she replied, fiddling with his mane plates.

Just like her golden-armored lion, Catherine could, to an extent, sense her creations’ emotions without having to use her powers. It had been awkward getting used to as first, having instances where one second she was brooding over something like work and then suddenly she was happy for no reason. It would only take another second for her to realize it was one of her creations—normally only Steeljaw as he has the strongest consciousness of the four—and return to brooding. Eventually, she became used to it and was able to retain her own emotions. She could even block it if she wished, but she honestly preferred being able to feel them there, reaching out to her. Sometimes she could swear she could hear their voices, but she knew that was just an illusion of the mind. Of course, if she used her powers she could easily find and feel their emotions clear as day, although the “voice” aspect was still the same.

“Besides,” she continued after a moment, “I have you and everyone else to help cheer me up.”

“True. And I’ve noticed Sideswipe has been taking the role upon himself as of late,” he mused, and she shrugged.

“Eh, what can I say? He knows how to make me laugh,” she grinned, and he chuckled in return.

They continued on, turning down the last hall before the Corridor, and would have continued had Catherine not suddenly stopped. She hadn’t even realized it herself until Steeljaw turned to look back and call out, but even that did not fully register. Something—she wasn’t sure what—was calling her. It had no name. It maybe didn't even have a form, but she knew it. Yet, at the same time she didn’t know it. It was like a name on the tip of her tongue, but whatever it was, it was happening. She could feel it in her body—in her blood and muscles and bones and cells. She could feel it through every fiber, drowning out the world from her senses.

“Catherine!” Steeljaw growled, ramming his head into her gut, knocking her down and the wind out of her. She gasped for air as she rolled up on instinct, and looked down at her hands to find there were dribbles of sweat, and the blue glow of the Energon within them was fading as if it had been activated. She frowned and looked up to her creation, whose optics were full of worry as he came close, apologizing for head butting her.

“What…?” she fumbled, grasping at his mane to steady herself.

“You were glowing. Your powers activated,” he replied softly, and her frown deepened.

“But… how? I don’t even remember…”

“Perhaps we should go to Ratchet?”

She paused to think, “No… No. I’ll be fine. It’s gone… whatever it was.”

He eyed her sternly, “Are you positive?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. That won’t happen again,” she nodded, and his ears flattened, so she continued, “I just… _know_ it won’t.”

After a moment, he sighed, “Very well. “

They went on then, and though Steeljaw’s memory of it was very clear, for Catherine it was more like a dream she could no longer remember. If she tried, it only moved further away, and even when she did not think of it, it never moved closer. She did truly know it would not happen again. How she knew, she could not say; she just did. Her creation trusted her judgment and so said nothing, but he did keep a close optic on her the whole way to the Command Center. He did so even while they stayed and spoke with some of the humans there, and also Knockout and Gears for a little while, as the two had brought their results from their searching. There was chatter going on with the ‘Cons, but they still hadn’t made a break through. They were still working on it. And when they had left, creator and creation mostly stayed beside themselves through the wait, which, thankfully, didn’t take all that long.

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**-O-**

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Catherine slipped off Steeljaw’s back as soon as she saw the back of the transporter planes open, allowing humans and Autobots to spill out. At once a call for the Twins went out, and the ice-cream truck zoomed off to hangar three for their new alternate forms. She could remember ordering the miniature vehicles, and hopefully they would keep the little brats from whining about their alternate forms too much. The other Autobots were perfectly fine with theirs, so they followed the human crowd into the Command Center briefly before steering off to a side section. Steeljaw joined his fellow Cybertronians while Catherine made her way up to the main station stairs.

She paused when she saw the caskets being carried out on the landing deck, and made a silent salute along with the other soldiers for the ones within. While their deaths were not her responsibility, she did feel pity and sorry for the families that had to be notified and the men and women who had lost valuable friends. However, the silence was short lived as another aerial craft—a black helicopter she knew far too well—come strolling in.

She scowled at once, cursing the man she knew was inside it, and finished making her way up the stairs. The General was already on screen and greeted her as he always did, but she became distracted as she noticed the haughty, determined gait Galloway had as he power-walked his way over, Lennox right on his tail with a not-so-confident look on his face. 

She kept her eyes on the balding man with disdain until Lennox finally made his way up to join them, his grim look only becoming darker as he came up next to her. She opened her mouth, but he used his hand to cut at the air, a sharp sign to shut up and to not say _anything_. She felt her heartbeat pick up a little, not sure what awaited them. She did as told, though, and leaned against the railing to wait while Lennox stood before the screen’s webcam.

“General,” he spoke up.

“Will. We saw the Shanghai Op. We had a rough day out there,” was the quick, somber reply, and Catherine glanced down briefly at Galloway, who remained on the ground. Next she looked to the side where the Autobot had gathered, and suddenly wished she was over there with them instead.

“Yes, sir,” the Commander replied at once, arms held respectfully behind his back, and his next words caught the redhead’s complete, and undivided attention. “We have Intel that I believe warrants an immediate debrief. Now, you know I can’t let you see him, but I’d like you to hear from the leader of the Autobots.”

“Proceed,” the General nodded, well aware of the process after having gone through it for two years now. Catherine could only assume there were men with the General that didn’t. If that was the case, things weren’t looking so good. It wasn’t that she didn’t expect foreign leaders or generals to join in— especially since there was always damage— but what had happened? She stepped closer to make sure she found out.

Beneath them, Optimus Prime began to transform. Most everyone in the room had already seen him do so before, but it was still a thing of awe and beauty. Catherine herself couldn’t help staring when some of the others transformed, either, always wondering how all the parts flowed and moved so perfectly. She supposed it hardly ever crossed the Autobots’ minds, and as Optimus nodded at her before glancing back at Galloway, she was rather sure of that notion.

“You gotta wonder,” Epps spoke up next to the balding man, “if God made us in his image… who made _him_?”

Had Catherine been within earshot, she might have smirked silently, knowing it was a cube and _technically_ her, but her eyes and ears were focused on the Autobot Commander, who faced the screens and, ultimately, General Morshower and his company.

“General, our alliances countermanded six Decepticon incursions this year, each on a different continent. As we have known for some time, they are clearly searching for something. However, this time our encounter came with a warning,” Optimus spoke, and, using his comm. link, played the message.

_“The Fallen shall rise again!”_

Catherine’s eyes narrowed. The name sounded like something bad, and already she felt an uneasy feeling growing in her stomach as the General questioned its meaning.

“Origin unknown. The only recorded history of our race was contained within the Allspark and lost with its destruction,” the Autobot commander continued, and this time the redhead did not smirk about hidden knowledge. In his words were truth—the knowledge was gone. They had discerned long ago she did not have it, and so it was in part her fault they did not know. She shook off any self-resentment, however, knowing the destruction of the Cube had been the right choice and her comrades would not have wanted her to feel guilt.

“Excuse me!” Galloway suddenly barked up, and Catherine felt her eyebrow twitch as his voice grated against her skull. “With this so-called Allspark now destroyed, why hasn’t the enemy left the planet like you thought they would?”

The redhead was pretty sure the man knew about the Allspark being destroyed, so she had to wonder why the hell he was acting like he didn’t. Granted, she supposed it was because he didn’t really ever listen to anything concerning the Autobots, so she let it slide. However, she did not like his tone as he climbed the stairs, and neither did Lennox, whom turned to the screen.

“As I’m sure you know, that was Director Galloway, our National Security Advisor,” he spoke up, but then cast a worried glance at Catherine, which made her heart race again. “The… ah, President just made him the sole liaison of NEST—both human _and_ Autobot.”

The redhead stepped forward at once, about to shout her thoughts on that, but Lennox held out his hand to stop her with a look that ordered her to be quiet for her own good. The General wasn’t outwardly as displeased as Catherine, but he did murmur his dissent of the action, apparently having not been notified. Even Optimus frowned with look mixed between frustration, annoyance, and disbelief.

“Forgive the interruption, General. Excuse me. Coming through. Excuse me. Excuse me, soldier” he hummed, all-too-happily as he walked by. Catherine wanted nothing more than to sock him as usual, but Lennox kept her at bay, standing as both a shield and blockade for her while the arrogant man stood before Prime, who was not pleased to see him either. “After all the damage in Shanghai, the President is hard-pressed to say the job’s getting done. Now, under the classified Alien/Autobot Cooperation Act…”

“Oh my god, this again?!” Catherine growled under her breath, but the man heard her and turned with a smirk that actually worried her.

“Oh, greetings, Ms. Wolf, or is that your _real_ name?” he essentially purred, and the redhead’s eyes widened ever so slightly with confusion and a hint of fear. “I did a little digging, you see, and _apparently_ your records have been altered. How much, we don’t know, but even a little is enough to make the President suspect that you’re not who you say you are and put you on suspension until you have been… reevaluated.”

“ _Excuse me?!_ ” she nearly shrieked, and did have to be held back by Lennox. 

“Catherine, _be quiet_ ,” he growled this time, and, reluctantly, she did.

“Why were we not informed of this?” General Morshower demanded, and even Optimus pressed closer with disapproval.

“Catherine is the _Autobot_ liaison—it is under _my_ discretion whether she is to be suspended or not,” the Autobot commander rumbled dangerously, but the balding man managed to hide his fear well if he had any.

“However, she was approved by the _President_ as the treaty so states must be done. Furthermore, she is an American citizen, or well, _supposedly_ , is, and can, therefore, be considered an enemy of the state should the President learn her file has been hiding potential dangerous facts about her origins. But let’s not worry about Ms. Wolf here, shall we? This is about _you_ and your _Autobots_ , after all.

“Now, time and time again, you’ve told us that the reason you will share Intel, but not advancements in weaponry is because you think it will do more harm than good. But who are _you_ to judge what’s best for _us_?”

Lennox stepped forward now that he’d calmed Catherine, “With all due respect, we’ve been fighting side by side in the field for two years—”

“We’ve shed blood, sweat and precious metal together,” Epps added from below, his voice seething.

Galloway gave him a look, “Soldier, you’re paid to shoot, not talk.”

“Don’t tempt me. You already got two strikes, bud,” the black man growled, ignoring Prime’s attempt to calm him.

“And the newest members of your team,” the liaison continued on, jabbing a bony finger at the line of vehicles and mechs that had transformed and now looked over with annoyance at him. “I understand they arrived here after you sent a message into space—an open invitation to come to Earth, vetted by _no one_ at the White House.”

“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Galloway. It was vetted right here,” the General spoke up, his voice calm, but laced with underlying aggravation. “And in my experience, the judgment of both Major Lennox and his team has always been above reproach.”

Galloway sniffed, unimpressed, “Well, be that as it may, General, it is the position of the President that when our national security is at stake, no one is above reproach.”

When Morshower made no comment, a small smirk crawled onto the balding man’s face as he turned back to Prime, hands set haughtily on his hips. Catherine continued to watch with seething anger that was destined to swell even more as he opened his mouth to continue.

“Now what do we know so far? We know that the enemy leader, classified N.B.E One, a.k.a. Megatron, is rusting in peace at the bottom of the Laurentian Abyssal, surrounded by SOSUS detection nets and a full-time submarine surveillance. We also know that the only remaining piece of your alien Allspark is locked in an electromagnetic vault here on one of the most secure naval bases in the world. And since no one can seem to tell me what the enemy is now after… Well, there’s only one clear conclusion!” he shouted, turning to Prime to jab his finger at him. “You! The Autobots! They’re here to _hunt_ you! What’s there to hunt for on Earth besides that? ‘The Fallen shall rise again’? It sounds to me like something’s coming. So, let me ask: if we ultimately conclude that our national security is best served by denying you further asylum on our planet, will you leave peacefully?”

Catherine would have done anything to scream, shout, and tear the remains of the man’s hair out and crush his glasses and then stuff them down his throat, but Lennox had given her a clear warning, and her common sense was strong enough to keep her from saying anything. But by God did she want to. She wanted to tell him how that wasn’t it, and that, although she had no proof, she _knew_ it wasn’t it. But that wouldn’t work, of course, and she was apparently suspended, so any say or power she had was gone.

“Freedom is your right. If you make that request, we will honor it,” Prime spoke, his voice even until he leaned in, his optics focusing sternly on the man. “But before your President decides, please ask him this. What if we leave… and you’re _wrong_?”

The man said nothing as he met Optimus’ gaze, the depth of the question setting in. He ultimately lost the contest, and turned away with a snort as he made for the stairs.

“I suggest you watch how you act around here from now on. I intend to keep a close eye on things and the President will know everything that I do,” he barked, but then paused to look over at Catherine. “Oh, and I expect Ms. Wolf to be confined until we have finished reviewing her files. Good day, gentlemen.”

With that he was gone, and Catherine managed to keep her mouth shut as he made his way out, Lennox acting as escort. When he was far enough away, she began to storm down the stairs as fast as she could. If anyone looked towards her, she didn’t care. They could think she was a traitor all they God damned well wanted. She knew she wasn’t, and they should have known she wasn’t, but how could that—that _bastard_ do that?! How had he found out? How? _How_?! Who was going to help the Autobots now? He only wanted to dismantle them and leave them for scrap metal! Galloway didn’t care about them! He didn’t even give a rat’s ass that they were the only thing standing in the way of the Decepticons.

“Catherine, hold up!” Epp’s voice rang through her ears, but she didn’t stop until he grabbed her arm. “Kid, c’mon, hold on. You okay?”

She bit her lip as she nodded, her eyes starting to water, “I’m fine.”

“No, c’mon, you’re not. You know we’re not gonna lock you up, right? That Galloway is full of shit with all this fake file stuff. He’s just pissed you’ve gotten so many one ups on him all the time,” her teammate spoke, squeezing her shoulder gently, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I told you I’m fine, Epps,” she replied, her voice low as she tried to keep it under control. Her fists shook with rage, and only tightened as Optimus’ feet appeared in the corner of her eye.

“Catherine… I am sorry. I did not foresee this happening,” the Autobot commander sighed, and she knew he was sincere, but it didn’t help. “We will do what we can to remedy this.”

“I know. I know. Just... C-can I go, please? I… I need to go punch something,” she spoke between clenched teeth.

“Stay in your room then until Lennox or one of us comes get you, alright, kid?” Epps spoke, pulling her in for a brief hug. She didn’t return it, but she did feel a little better. Still, she could not meet his gaze, and moved away quickly. She did not greet Steeljaw when the lion pranced up beside her, but she did grab hold of his mane, using it to hop onto his back. He knew what she wanted at once, and took off at a fast run, the panels shielding her from the wind, and leaving the soldier and commander to watch her go with saddened expressions. They also watched as the lithe, silver mech tore after them.

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**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

High above the sky, floating at the edges of the reach of the planet’s gravity, a metallic being jerked and shot forth a small, comet-like object. It jettisoned forward rapidly, in part by its own mechanism and also the planet’s own workings. It fell fast and with direction, aiming for the shores of a landmass, rather small in comparison to others. The resounding splash was minimal and unnoticeable as had been intended, and moments later a four-legged, metal beast with a single, murderous red eye sprang forth from the water. Its gears clicked and whirred, while a guttural growl ripped up from its throat and past rows of gleaming, sharp fangs.

Two pointed parts attached to the sides of its head perked and twitched, like the ears of the feline-like creature it resembled. The beast snarled as they did so, and then its head suddenly turned sharply. With a flick of its tail, a flex of claws, and a coiling of legs, the metal beast lunged into a sprint that would have turned it into a blur for anyone watching.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Hours after the earlier incident, Catherine found herself out at her “spot” with Sideswipe, using the top of his chest as her place to sit.

She had originally been in her room brooding with Steeljaw and her drones, but eventually the lion had to return to duty. Lennox came not long after, letting her know they were not going to keep in her holding, but it was best she stayed on the Autobot side and essentially in her room for now. When asked how everyone else reacted, she was relieved to know they were calling bullshit, stating how there was no way she could be a traitor and it was just some low blow by the asshole. For that, she was happy, but she knew their lie had been discovered. Even Lennox was worried, as he knew it could cause problems although she was really eighteen now. All that could be done, though, was hope that Prime and Morshower could make appeals and use her being a legal adult to keep her in business. That hope was thin, though, especially when it was Galloway trying to crush it.

As soon as Lennox was gone, she had immediately left, and much to her relief, the silver mech had been waiting nearby for her. He said nothing as he picked her up at once and took her to their spot, sat down, and let her curl up on his torso, hugging her knees close for a few moments before suddenly slamming her fists into the metal plating beneath her. The blows did nothing to him; he couldn’t even feel them, but they were necessary and she kept it up into the sides of hands were red and raw and her energy spent. Only then did she let out a cry of frustration and scrunch tightly together. That was when he brought his hand up, wrapping the fingers around her comfortingly, and she grabbed one and held it close, just as she was now.

“I swear, if I ever get the chance I’m going to kill that man,” she said after what felt an eternity of silence.

“He’s asking for it,” Sideswipe added, and she tightened up more. “But Prime will find a way to stop him and give him what he deserves.”

“I know, but… but what if he can’t? You guys can’t have _him_ as your liaison! He’ll ruin you! He _hates_ you! He doesn’t care about who you are at all! All the work we’ve done will be wasted!”

“Prime will do it. He wouldn’t let any of his comrades down. He never has and never will. Just like how I won’t let anyone touch you. Treaty be slagged—if they try anything, I’ll slice them in two.

She sighed as she leaned into his hand, her grip relaxing some, “Thanks, although you better not. It’s like you said—Optimus will fix things. We’ll get through this. We have to.”

“We will. I promise we will. No more bad things will happen,” he spoke softly, using his thumb to rub her back. She let out another sigh as she became quiet, closing her eyes to listen to the whirring of his gears in his hands. It was soothing as the sounds mixed with the sloshing of the ocean, and it helped. It helped a lot.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Steeljaw’s tail swished back and forth as he walked along the rough terrain on the outskirts of the vault area. He sniffed at the air, noting the different scents of the grass and salty sea air. Somewhere far off, he could tell there had been rain, but it would not reach here, which was a shame. Though it was nightfall, his optics could easily see through the darkness and tell the rocks were flush with dead grass here. It would have done the land good to have rain, but it would be some time before storms came.

With a last sniff he trotted off, continuing along his rounds. He highly doubted there would be any intruders—he had been at his post for a long time now and there was never anything beyond rocks and the occasional animal. While the little creatures were fascinating to play with, they were of no danger or concern, and he so he often found himself bored on his lone patrols. Thankfully, he was almost done and would be able to return to the main building to join in with whatever discussion the others were having.

_This should be good enough. There isn’t really anything the rest of the way_ , Steeljaw hummed silently as he turned and began cantering straight for the main building. For once, he was actually very eager to finish his duty today. His creator had been incredibly distraught, and even now he could feel it in his spark. He wished greatly to be near her, helping to soothe the misery, but he had a duty and it could not be known Catherine was his creator. The consequences could easily be immense and she could be taken away. He did not want that nor would he allow it, should he be able.

His thoughts were interrupted as the smallest flicker of a blip appeared on his scanners. His mane lifted at once, mouth opening with a snarl, and he aimed his audio receptors towards the southern edge of the area. At first he thought it had been nothing, but then—another blip. A Cybertronian signal. It wasn’t Autobot, however. He growled once more and burst into a sprint. Whatever had entered was heading straight for the vault and worse—his companions.

He pumped his legs as fast as he could; leaping high over the rocks and gaps between them, but it was not fast enough. The sounds of gunfire reached him before he even spotted the buildings, and he cursed as he began to charge the rapid fire gun in his tail and the ones underneath the armor of his shoulder blades. His instincts were the strongest, and so, even as he spotted the intruder—oddly very similar to himself—he withheld the guns in favor of his more immediate weaponry.

With a mighty roar he lunged, ramming into the silver, red-optic quadruped and dug his claws and fangs in with such force it sent both of them tumbling. The beast beneath him shrieked and roared as it clawed rapidly, ripping through his armor. The jostling loosened his hold and he rolled away, optics flashing with challenge, which his opponent copied. With a snarl, both fired and lunged at one another.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

Catherine leaped up, her heart pounding as adrenaline rushed through her. It was not of her body’s doing, though. Sideswipe became alarmed, too, as the redhead’s face fell and a look of terror became etched into her features.

“Steeljaw!” she howled as she turned to the silver mech. “He’s in danger! Sideswipe! You have to help him, please! I can feel it—he’s fighting and he just got hurt and--!”

She didn’t need to say anything else.

“Wait for me in the Medbay. Get Ratchet ready,” he spoke quickly and set her down. As soon as she stepped off his hand he raced off at high speeds. Catherine did not sit idly by, either; she took off at a sprint, racing through the halls to the Medbay, ignoring all shouts or questions. Her child was in danger. There was no time for talk. Sideswipe was going, though—Steeljaw would be safe. He had to be. And if he was hurt, Ratchet would fix him. He had to.

“R-Ratchet!” she cried out between pants as soon as she passed through the doors, effectively startling all three mechs, whom had been busy tinkering with the Converter. Seeing her state, the Chief Medical Officer immediately rushed over, picked her up, and readied a scan until she waved him off. “No! Not me! Steeljaw! He’s hurt! I sent Sideswipe, but you have to be ready for him!”

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

The golden-armored lion hissed as the silver quadruped ripped through his shoulder-mounted gun with its sharp claws, rendering it useless. He countered with a blow of his own, latching his jaws onto the enemy’s hip missile launcher and ripping it clean off. He then angled his body and kicked, striking the silver beast in the face. It fell with a yelp, but rolled up to face the next attack that had been aimed for its side. Steeljaw missed, scraping ground instead of metal, and roared with pain as the silver quadruped dug its many fangs into his bad leg, tearing out wires and gears. He raised his tail, spraying the beast with bullets right into its neck. It roared in agony as well, releasing him and leaping away.

Steeljaw bared his fangs, although his rear right leg had lost nearly fifty percent of its functioning. He would not be able to move properly on it, but he could still fight, and he would. The other quadruped was not much better off. While the other was more agile, Steeljaw had greater brute strength and had managed to tear one of its larger Energon line and damaged its left hip and missile launcher. His allies were also attempting to fire, though had been deterred with him so close. Yet, he could tell they were firing bullets elsewhere, but at what? Was there a threat he had missed? The thought made his Energon boil and his optics flash with rage. He had to hurry and finish this to protect them.

He fired from his good shoulder and tail, but the beast was fast and sprung out of the way. It lunged at him, but he ducked and leaped after. He caught the beast, sending them both tumbling again, only the silver one pulled its rear legs close and chucked Steeljaw off him. The golden-armored lion rolled, jumbled by the impact, but staggered up in time to slash the creator’s face, turning it away from him just in time. The beast snarled, arching the spikes on its back threateningly. He did much the same, flaring his mane, and they began to circle. The battle could go either way, and Steeljaw was determined to end it in his favor.

The silver quadruped was no doubt thinking the same, but then suddenly paused, its audio receptors and optic fixating on something behind Steeljaw for a split second before snarling deviously. Before the golden quadruped could decipher his enemy’s intentions, the remaining missile launcher aimed not at him, but behind him, and fired.

He didn’t even think twice as he turned and ran, bringing up his guns to shoot. The bullets struck home, bursting the missile in midair and saving his comrades. He dug his claws in to stop and pivot, but the silver quadruped was on him. He had no time to react as the beast ripped away his lower mane panels, and then he screamed as the rows of fangs sunk into the exposed wires of his neck, tearing through the main line into the vulnerable protoform structure underneath, and pulled. The wires, cogs, and metal came free, and he felt most of his body cease functioning almost at once. Energon sprayed forth, splattering the silver quadruped who ripped up Steeljaw’s side for good measure and then left him just as another creature—this one incredibly thin and small—sprinted by. The red optic turned to face him more, letting off a victorious roar, and then it was gone.

He couldn’t even speak as the Energon pooled from his frame. His audio receptors failed him, and his vision started to go, too. He could barely see his comrades coming to him, their faces stained with blood and dirt and sweat. He could barely see them shouting, their words were lost. Yet, at the very least, they were safe. He had managed to keep them safe. His mother would have been proud, although now he silently wept for the sorrow he would bring her. He pleaded for her forgiveness as the world began to darken, the pool around him getting thicker.

_Farewell, Mother._

For Steeljaw, the world became silent. For those around him, more cries filled the air while calls to the main base went out. Then the thrum of helicopter wings filled the air, followed by the thud of a silver mech as he hit the ground. Their cries went to him, but the mech said nothing as he pulled the broken golden quadruped into his arms gently, carefully. His optics gazed down with sadness, and he left the humans without saying anything.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

Catherine’s knees buckled and she hardly registered the shock of pain that went through them as they hit the ground. Her body shook as she reached out for the mauled head of the metallic lion, his once golden armor now stained from the Energon caked across his frame. His optics were dark and lifeless, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not feel the pulse of his spark. He was gone. The body was just a shell. Steeljaw was dead.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, bringing the head into her lap, and stroking it. Behind her, Sideswipe stood silently with Ratchet, Jolt, and First Aid. All had been shocked when they saw him walk in, the lifeless quadruped in his arms. He didn’t want to show it to the redhead, but he knew he had to. The medics hadn’t bothered to runs scans. They all knew their comrade, their friend, and her child, was dead. Sideswipe explained what the humans had managed to babble to him, and soon enough the report came in from Prime, which they confirmed. A warning had been sent out next; informing that everyone was to stay the hell away from the Medbay unless told otherwise or Ratchet would personally dismember them regardless of who they were.

“Steeljaw,” she croaked, her eyes welling up with tears as she pressed her forehead down against his. There was not even the stirring of his gears. No echoes. No life. Nothing. He was gone. Her little lion was gone. She could feel the hole in her chest—the empty space his emotions and spark would have been. She could feel it so clearly and it filled her with agony.

Sideswipe could see it all too well, and he yearned to help her. He wanted more than anything to comfort her. He did not know how to, but he wanted—he _had_ to try. However, just as he began to move closer, Will Lennox rushed in, out of breath and about to ask what had happened, but closed his mouth when he saw her. Catherine looked up, and there was nothing else he needed to know. He had Ratchet lift him up and then rushed over. As soon as he was within reach, she latched onto his shirt and buried her head into his chest, the lion’s head still on her lap. He lowered himself down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“Shit, Catherine. I’m sorry—I’m _so, so_ sorry,” he breathed, having known full well her relationship with Steeljaw, and hating to see his adopted daughter so broken.

Her grip tightened, “Why, Lennox? Why?”

“I don’t know, ‘Cat. I don’t know,” he replied, sparing a glance down at the quadruped, but had to look away soon enough. He hadn’t known the mech as personally as others, but he had been a good guy, and was technically his grandson in a way. What mattered the most, though, was that he had been important to Catherine.

“I’m not gonna cry,” she murmured, though he could feel the tears soaking into his shirt. “He wouldn’t want me to. He would’ve wanted me to be proud he died fighting to help everyone. So I’m not gonna cry.”

“I know. I know. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered, rubbing her back soothingly.

It took a long time, but he finally got her to move and, per Ratchet’s instructions, took her back to her room. It also required a promise from the medics they would treat Steeljaw alright, although all they could do was repair him up so he was no longer mauled. Sideswipe watched them leave, but once they were gone, he stared down at the hand he had raised up, meant to comfort her, and realized how big it was— how hard and cold and un-human it was. He squeezed his three fingers into a fist, wishing there could have been some way he could have something to help. But he wasn’t human. He was Cybertronian. There was nothing…

A thought occurred to him, and, knowing the others would ask too much, turned to First Aid. Moving away from the others, he asked the young medic for help, and, just as he had guessed, the mech did not feel the need to inquire of his intentions. He worked quickly and efficiently, allowing the silver mech to leave in less than a breem without catching the interest of the other medics.

Sideswipe moved fast. He paused, though, when he saw Commander Lennox leave her room and stand outside the door for a long while, running a hand through his air. Curses fell from his lips and he turned to stare at the door for a bit longer before finally heading off, no doubt his duties forcing him, too. The silver mech moved then, rolling to stand before the door and activate his newly altered tool.

Within the room, Catherine sat, her legs pulled tight while her creations were curled up, silent in their mourning. Sniffles came from her, and her shoulders still shook as she held back the tears. It was interrupted, though, when he called out to her. She lifted her head in surprise, and nearly lurched back, too, at the sight of the young, male soldier that had magically appeared out of nowhere.

“It’s me, Catherine! Sideswipe!” he explained quickly, his form flickering to show her. “It’s just a hologram.”

She nodded, rubbing at her eyes as she sat cross-legged, “Right. Right… T-thank-you, ‘Sides. For bringing him to me.”

He merely nodded as he brought the hologram closer and sat it down, getting a confused look on her face, but it passed as the sorrow swallowed it. 

“Why, though? Why’d Steeljaw have to die?” she sputtered, tears starting up again despite her self-control. His hologram looked up at her, and then, to her surprise, its arms wrapped around her in a hug that she could actually feel.

“I’m sorry. I should have gotten there sooner. He’d still be alive if I had. And then I couldn’t even comfort you. Not like Lennox did. I’m so sorry,” he spoke, his form flickering, losing and regaining solidity. Tears started to fall once more as she pulled away, and he looked at her with confusion and mounting despair. She left him hanging as she stood up and exited the room, turning to face him. His hologram vanished as he looked down at her, unsure what to do.

“Pick me up,” she told him, and he did, setting her on his torso. She then waved for him to move his head closer, and he did. She grasped his two cheek armor plates and pressed her forehead against his. “This. Just-- do this. Don’t leave me.”

“Okay,” he whispered, pressing back and shutting off his optics briefly. However, they reopened as she started to cry again, her sobs heart-wrenching, and he brought his hand to wrap it around her.

“It’s not fair, Sideswipe,” she choked out. “Everything all twisted now. I don’t get it. I hate it. I just want it to stop. I want things to be how they were.”

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, and she clung tighter. “We’ll get through this. I’m here.”

“I know. I know,” was all she said before her sobs took over. 

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**TMWolf:** _Soooooo... ummmmm... yeah. I killed Steeljaw. YUP. There's that Cat fight and the first official "seen" fight of ROTF :x To be honest, if Ravage hadn't pulled that cheap move, Steeljaw probably could have won. While Ravage is faster/more flexible, he doesn't have as much "brute strength" as Steeljaw. Think of it like Mufasa and Scar. Soooo... yeah. SLAG IS HITTING THE FAN. I told you it would, didn't I? And it only gets worse. THAT'S RIGHT. IT. GETS. WORSE. And I'm become an even more terrible person :D_

_And yeah, Catherine's record "change" has been found out, so she's been suspended until further notice. Galloway, of course, is gloating that up. Sam is off the college, too, and I wonder if anyone can figure out WHY she had that little "episode" earlier in the chapter ;) If not, you'll know why in a couple of chapters. Oh, and I start showing different POV, switching from 'Cat to basically just the Decepticons. You'll see them "talking" of course, but they AREN'T speaking in English, just want that to be known._

_AND SO. Sideswipe and Catherine moment at the end there. I hope you guys enjoyed that. And yes, he totally tried to use his hologram- edited briefly by First Aid to be more "physical"- to comfort her, but instead got his own special way! Think of it as like an Eskimo kiss, but... with a robot whose a huge amount times your size. Yeah. Something like that. Except more closeness from them later on :x_


	43. Your Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of Monsters and Men are the band! :)

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Far from any human civilization, in the midst of a vast ocean spanning hundreds of depths, a single tanker ship sailed slowly over the blue waters. It carried a heavy load of containers, all colored different shades, and also a brightly colored array of construction vehicles that the captain and workers had not recalled being on the list of items, but saw no harm in the mistake. They could have easily been a last minute addition, and it was that very train of thought which concealed the comet-like object that struck onto the surface of the ship and transformed into a metallic feline-like beast, unseen and unnoticed. So too were the odd machinations of the vehicles, whose parts morphed and moved, turning them into something entirely alien, yet bearing a resemblance of a human made of metal with piercing, red optics which glowed with burning malice.

The four transformed vehicles, along with their newest feline addition, leaped over the side of the ship, hurtling down into the dark abyss below. However, this time they were not invisible to the human factor in the waters—submarines detected their signals and made the calls, but nothing would be able to stop them as they fell faster and faster, the pressure and temperatures of no concern to their metallic, alien forms. They touched down upon the rocks and sand of the ocean floor in mere seconds, and from there they didn’t need to go far to find their query—a lifeless, metallic shell resembling their kind, buried in sand and serving as home to some of the creatures of the sea.

The four human-like alien beings settled around their fallen comrade, while the feline landed upon the inert form, and from its chest a small creature of similar make popped out from its chest. It resembling more so a spider than anything else, and it’s red, bug-like optics only cemented the notion, both of which scrutinized the rusted metal of the lifeless being. It hummed for only a moment, before looking to its far larger companions.

_“Need parts!”_ it spoke in a language no human would understand, a combination of electronic sounds no vocal apparatus on the planet could hope to make. _“Kill ze little one!”_

The miniscule creature said it with much ease and glee, and three of the larger, human-like mechs worked with as much apathy as they tore apart one of their comrades, the screams falling on deaf audio receptors. They stopped all together soon enough as the small creature began its work, using the parts to mend their fallen comrade—a doctor for their kind. It worked fast and with precision that would make it the envy of any human medical physician, and soon the large, lifeless metal being was ready for the final piece.

The small doctor turned to the feline, whose throat rumbled with glee and eagerness as it pulled a small, jagged shard from its chest and handed it to its smaller companion. With an impish shine to its optics, the spider-like creature clambered towards the fallen being’s chest, raising the shard high above it as if it were a priest awakening a god.

_“Ze Shard make Energon!”_ it squealed delightfully and thrust the object down, straight into the empty hole in the chest. 

A few seconds passed, and the doctor pulled back, confused. There had been no flash, no flare of life; not even a small spark. The hole was still black and empty, and the fallen comrade lifeless. The doctor scowled, red optics narrowing in annoyance as it turned to the feline-like metal being.

_“What is zis? Shard is dead! No power! You fail!”_ it wailed, throwing the shard at the feline who growled with confusion as well and snatched up the shard into its claws. It studied the object for a moment, before rumbling at the doctor with uncertainty, which continued to glare with contempt.

_“We take Megatron to safe place! Contact Soundwave! Come! We go!”_ the doctor barked, jabbing a single claw at the three human-like mechs as it floated towards the feline, whom accepted the creature back into its chest. With a growl, the metal beast took the shard into its jaws and crushed it before jettisoning towards the surface. The three other mechs took hold of their fallen comrade and followed after, the human submarines of no worry as the alien beings let loose a volley of blasts, rendering the marine equipment useless and killing all within. They did the same to any who got in their way as they decided to remain below the surface and swim on for the nearest coast.

It took hours, leading them deep into the night, before they reached the nearest shore. The landscape was hot and mostly barren until further along where golden fields of dry grass went on for miles with only the occasional tree or indigenous wildlife. The metal feline growled with annoyance as it trotted up from the sandy beaches to the solid land, the other three not far behind with their precious cargo in tow. The doctor appeared once more, climbing to the top of the feline’s head and scanning the landscape.

_“We go farther inland. Find place no one bother us. Zen we contact Soundwave,”_ it barked, and the feline took off at a slow trot, the other three following as fast as they could. Though their labor was tiresome, they made no complaint, even as they went on for hours again. The landscape beneath them became flusher with life as they went, but anything mobile left them alone, which was fine by the metal beings. They cared not for the stupid creatures—they only sought a secure location for their plans. Certainly the hot, arid landscape was a proper place. They only need find the right spot, and just as the sun peeked from beneath the horizon, they did.

_“Zet him down here!”_ the doctor ordered, pointing at a spot on the ground, and the four mechs obeyed. _“Now we contact Soundwave. Ravage, link to him.”_

The metal feline growled softly, its optic growing dim, and did as told. In a matter of seconds, a new voice, this one much deeper, was heard through the feline.

_“Soundwave acknowledges. Status of Megatron?”_

_“Fool! Ze Shard useless! Megatron in ztasis! No Allspark Energon!”_ the doctor shouted, jabbing a claw at the feline, though it was intended for the being thousands of miles above them, orbiting the planet.

_“Impossible. Data was conclusive.”_

_“Not impossible! Fool! Megatron in ztasis! Must fix! Plan fail!”_

Soundwave was silent for a few moments before replying, _“Remain in location. I will descend.”_

_“Indeed! Come quick! We solve problem!”_

The feline severed the connection then, red optic returning to full brightness, and snarled at the doctor again before stalking off to lie beneath a nearby tree. The small, mechanical being snorted but let it go to scuttle onto Megatron’s prone form, fiddling over small repairs left undone earlier. The other three glanced amongst one another for a few moments before settling themselves down as well to wait for their other comrade. They didn’t have to wait long as a red stream hurtled down towards them within the hour. The metal feline stood at once, eager for the new arrival. The other three stood as well, though more so with respect of who was to come. The doctor didn’t even bother to look up, still fussing over their fallen comrade. Not even the earth-shaking impact of the new arrival bothered him.

_“Slow, Soundwave!”_ it finally spoke once the new metallic, human-like being came close, the metal feline right at its feet.

_“Value overestimated, Doctor,”_ the being, dark and looming, rumbled, and the small metal being finally flinched. _“Shard was powerless. Data does not confirm.”_

_“Ze shard useless. No power! No Energon!”_ the Doctor spoke loudly, gesturing to the empty hole in Megatron’s chest.

" _Autobots have source. Ravage engaged new life,”_ Soundwave mused, glancing down at the metallic feline, which still bore the scars from the encounter.

_“If not Shard, zen where?”_

_“Reconnaissance required,”_ the towering metal being rumbled, and from its chest a metal, bird-like creature emerged with a grating squawk. _“Laserbeak. Mission: discover source of Allspark energon. Destination: Diego Garcia.”_

The bird smirked with a devilish glint in its narrowed optics, and with a cackle, took off faster than any bird could hope to with the aid of the jets attached to its rear. The others watched until Laserbeak was gone from sight, and then Doctor turned to Soundwave once more.

_“What we do until ze bird returns?”_

_“Wait.”_

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Despite Galloway’s bold claims and demands, Catherine wasn’t going to be imprisoned. She was still suspended and undergoing review, but according to Lennox, her two years of work were helping the government to see her in a good light. General Morshower, Optimus Prime, and Marissa—returning briefly after hearing the news—were also vouching for her, and the fact she was the most knowledgeable of the Autobots as well as probably the _sole_ person they’d tell most everything to, there was a good chance that they would overlook her file “editing”. However, that wasn’t going to be decided for a while. Not until the red alert and the Decepticon threat for the base was over.

While the redhead was consumed with the loss of her child, everyone else was in a flurry trying to figure out how the hell the Decepticons had found their base and knew _exactly_ where the Allspark Shard was. They also wanted to know what the enemy might want it for, and Prime and his main group of council—Jazz, Ratchet, Elita-1, and Ironhide—didn’t have any good news besides the fact they now knew what the Decepticons had been searching for. The Autobots were reluctant to say so, but it was almost a sure thing that the ‘Cons were trying to revive Megatron. When asked if it was possible, Ratchet confirmed that it was; reminding them of the “experiments” that had created the three drones and Steeljaw, although it was also possible the Shard didn’t have enough to revive a mech of Megatron’s size. While the Autobots knew it was an obvious lie, the humans did not and so quickly began to work on preparing for the worst.

Of course, the Autobots did their share. Knowing what the Decepticons were after, Optimus immediately had Sideswipe and Jazz stationed as Catherine’s personal guards. In part, because he knew of their attachment and no one would think much if they saw her with them for long periods of time, and because they were two of his best warriors. The others that knew were also on higher alert and took it upon themselves to keep a closer watch. Barricade—although having proved himself an ally as of late by telling them what they had suspected about reviving Megatron without showing signs of betrayal—was kept under tighter security once more.

Lennox and his team kept a close eye on Catherine, too. The human Commander made sure at least one of them went to check up on her daily, and only for Lennox did she ever let her façade of annoyance and concern slip. He was the only human at NEST who knew about her being Steeljaw’s creator, and so was the only one on her team she dared let know how upset she was over him. How could she not be? He had been her child, and now the part of her that carried their bond was empty. She’d only ever felt that way with Sam, but even then it hadn’t been so _direct_. So… _physical_. Sideswipe told her it was exactly how he felt without Sunny. He also told her it would get better with time—by filling it with the others around her. She wanted to argue that he was going to get his brother back and could feel him now, but she knew he was right. Even Jazz later confirmed it, so she knew it was true, but it didn’t change the fact Steeljaw was dead. The notion made it take a week before she even began to remotely feel more like herself.

One thing that helped was that she hadn’t been the only one upset. The golden-armored lion had made friends in his short time at the base, and so there was much good talk of the lion at his short funeral session, and not just between Autobots. Even humans attended, and Catherine finally got to share a few words with his team. It had helped some to hear how wonderful her little lion had been, although the pain still remained. And it would, she knew, for perhaps the rest of her life, but it would also ebb, as Sideswipe and Jazz has reassured her.

When the week had passed, she finally began to really start to venture out again. She could not go far, of course; she was essentially banned to the Autobot side for now—Galloway had recently sent “officials” to work with the Command Center and act as his “eyes”—and she spent nearly all her time in the Medbay. There, Sideswipe would join her, and Jazz, too, if Prime did not require his presence at meetings. Ratchet, despite his ire for unnecessary presences in his Medbay, did not make any attempts to remove the two, although made sure they knew to stay out of the way. The medics weren’t terrible busy, but they were starting to prepare parts for repairs and improving armor for the battle they all knew was coming.

And when she wasn’t in the Medbay, Catherine was at her and Sideswipe’s spot. For the most part, they didn’t talk about much the first week; she preferred the silence, listening to his gears and to the spark thrumming beneath her. His presence alone was a comfort for her. Jazz, too, was a comfort when he could be there. His spark was perhaps the one that relieved the emptiness the most—the bond she shared with him encompassing most of the hole, though not all of it. Both did their best to keep her spirits up and her mind distracted, and it helped.

During the second week, she finally found herself returning somewhat to normal. The memory of Steeljaw was still fresh, but she could go about her day without having to hide any sadness. She even took up walking around the Autobot side of the base with her two guards, chatting with whomever they found, but still mostly spending time in the Medbay. It was only there she could really find anything to do. She generally just continued to read up on sparks, but Ratchet soon figured out that she was bored and so gave her new datapads, which were filled with knowledge of their culture and race. There was much more to them than she realized and took much joy in learning from it and asking Sideswipe or Jazz any questions she had. It made the days pass by faster and without much dour feelings.

Of course, with the threat of Decepticons looming and knowing they could very well return to look for the real source of Allspark energy, there was not much time to relax. Catherine knew all too well the dangers. She could never keep the occasional dark whispers in her mind from reminding her of what could happen, but then Sideswipe and Jazz were able to reassure they wouldn’t let any ‘Con get within ten feet of her. The others expressed much the same, and promised to do so for the entire base, too. The humans were just as tense as well— soldiers walking around fully geared more often than not. The Command Center was on full alert, too, and patrols and scans were made hourly. Lennox even had Catherine dawn protective gear and to keep a gun with her at all times. Still, despite all the bad news, the redhead wasn’t as worried as she figured she should have been.

Unfortunately, irony went hand in hand with Murphy’s Law, and Catherine had no control over the higher power that wielded it.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

Catherine stroked Blaster gently as he lay curled in her arms while she walked down the hall, Sideswipe a few Cybertronian steps behind her. Cybermon and Teletraan both clung to her shoulder, one making short, Pokémon-like sounds and the other clicks. Like her, the drones had gone through a small depression the past week and a half, but were now much better. They didn’t fully understand the depth of the reason, but they too had sensed the absence of their youngest brother. They had recovered faster and were definitely better off, but she sometimes caught them chirping or looking for something that wasn’t there. It was in part for that reason she had started bringing them everywhere with her. The other part she wouldn’t say aloud, but she wanted to feel her kids close to her. She hadn’t realized how much she needed the bonds until now.

“I can just give you a lift, you know,” Sideswipe spoke up, and though she couldn’t seeit, she knew there was a grin on his face.

“Yeah, but I haven’t been able to get a lot of exercise in lately, so this is good for me,” she replied with a shrug, making her drones’ chirping increase for the few seconds the motion took. “And the Medbay isn’t far, so it’s fine. Anyways, where’s Jazz today?”

“He got called in again. They’re having a meeting over something Hound made for tracking or whatever. I think some of the human engineers had something to do with it, too. It’s something boring, anyways.”

She hummed, “I’ll have to ask Jazz or maybe Smokescreen to fill me in, though. Thank God for that mech—he’s been able to do _all_ my duties as liaison. He’s even keeping that fucker and his goons on their toes!”

“The offer’s still there, by the way,” he replied, and she heard his blade shoot down from his arm. “I would not regret offing all of them.”

“Oh, Sideswipe!” she sighed, stopping to turn and give him a smile. “You are just too sweet, sometimes. Unfortunately, as much I’m sure _everyone_ would _love_ that, the answer is still no. I’d prefer you to _not_ be exiled or offlined, for that matter. I need you around.”

“True… I am irresistible, after all,” he purred, and she let out a laugh as she started walking again.

“Nah, I just need someone to tote me around when I don’t feel like walking,” she purred back.

He chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. That’s what you _always_ say.”

“Only ‘because it’s true!” she sang, and sped up in her walk a little. The silver mech caught up easily, of course, and played around by bringing one of his wheels a little too close. For anyone else, it would have been far outside the comfort zone, but she was used to his antics, so she just laughed as it passed by harmlessly. He backed off a little as they rounded the corner, and both stopped at once as they were greeted with an unusual guest.

“Oops,” were the words that came from Knock Out’s mouth, and then the green-armored Autobot scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Well this figures,” Gears spoke at about the same time, rolling his optics with a sigh.

The mech between them merely snorted, as was the common trait of Barricade these days. Catherine, despite being within the presence of an ex-Deception, couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of them. Being that they worked together, Gears and Knock Out had become Barricade’s essential “guards”. So far they had done well to keep him out of the way of the redhead, but both parties had obviously slipped up today. Again, Catherine wasn’t too worried; the dark-armored mech had no idea what she was, and he had honestly gotten a lot better since he first came.

“Nice to see you’re as cheerful as always, ‘Cade,” the redhead hummed, knowing full well the ex-Decepticon loathed the nickname. Thankfully for his sanity, none of the Autobots ever called him that, but that didn’t keep her from using it.

“I’d prefer to keep the Energon within my tanks, human,” he rumbled in reply, though without contempt..

“Awww, look—you’re not so bad after all,” she teased as she started to move around. “C’mon, 'Sides. Let’s let the three musketeers get going.”

"Wait—what? But we’re not friends! We’re just co-workers!” Knock Out shouted while his fellow, blue-armored Autobot mumbled something under his breath.

“I just might have to purge my tanks after all. Let’s get moving. I detest wasting time on such trivial things,” Barricade grumbled, and his guards complied, while the redhead and silver mech continued on. Sideswipe glanced down at her at the same time she looked up, and she frowned back.

“What?”

“Should you _really_ be talking with _him_ like that? I mean, I can take him no problem, but aren’t you, uh, ‘tempting fate’, I think is the phrase?”

She shrugged, her drones chirping again, “I guess. I mean, he seems pretty intent on staying a neutral even though he knows they’re probably going to revive Megatron. He’s even still helping us out, and you’ve got to admit that he’s a lot more civil.”

“I don’t care what he does. He’s still a ‘Con. What’s stopping him from going back to join them now that he _thinks_ Megatron is coming back?”

“Of course there is that possibility, but aren’t the ‘Cons likely to kill Barricade for going neutral and helping us even a little bit? I wouldn’t put it past them to do it, anyways, and if anything, Barricade is a survivor, which means he’ll stick with us to stay alive.”

Sideswipe frowned, grumbling, “That does make some sense, but I don’t trust him, and neither should you. I bet if he got the chance he’d go right back.”

“I don’t trust him, either, ‘Sides. I just think there’s a chance he won’t betray us, so we have to take that account _along_ with the chance he’ll betray us. And if he does, then, well, you know to do.”

“Slaggin’ right I do,” he smirked, flexing his blades again.

She chuckled, “Easy, tiger. I know you’re just trying to impress me. Too bad Jazz is _way_ cooler.”

She heard him grumble his disagreement, and simply laughed in return. She knew very well how the silver mech had some kind of rivalry going on with the white-and-blue mech. It wasn’t easy to see, but if one were around them as much as she was, one got to noticing it. It was mostly in the training room when the two would do their best to outdo each other, but it was also around her, too. She loved listening in on their banter—Jazz always knew how to irk the silver mech just right, and he _never_ lost his cool. She always found it kind of cute how they competed, and how Sideswipe always tried so hard to outdo her big, Cybertronian brother. He could do it physically sometimes—he was much faster than the saboteur and more agile—but when it came to the mind games, he was easy pickings for her big bro. Still, it was a fun game to watch and listen in on.

“And we’re here!” she announced proudly, waltzing through the doors. Sideswipe had to pause to pry them open to fit through, and then lowered his hand down to her once inside. He set her onto the work table and then rolled off to his personal corner while Catherine put her drones down before making her way to the small stack of datapads Ratchet had made for her, picking up a few at random.

“So, how goes the work?” she called out to the three medics, all working with the Converter or welding metal together into armor parts or possibly new weapons. There had been talk going around about Ironhide, Chromia, Springer, and a few other artillery-heavy mechs spending time in the Medbay with the medics, designing new weapons.

“Swell, actually. We’ve got a lot of material already converted,” Jolt replied, pulling away from his spot to grab more metal. “We have enough for repairs, and the rest is for anything else.”

“We’re still trying to work out the kinks for the smaller, more sensitive circuitry, though,” First Aid added, looking over a hologram screen of the very thing he spoke of.

“Ah. I guess that would be harder to work with. Can the Converter not do it?” she inquired, tilting her head curiously. This time Ratchet pulled away, letting out a vent as he set his hands on his hips.

“As a medic we don’t _make_ any of the bodies. We just repair them, which is actually _very_ different than making the parts. The Allspark and Energon sacks would simply do it for us through what you would call crystallization, or something akin to that,” he rumbled, gesturing to the pile of parts, all of different shapes and sizes. “Needless to say, that makes it difficult for us to forge the correct parts. We _can_ do it, but it takes a great deal of effort and precision that we might not be able to afford if we needed better armaments or new limbs.”

“We’re still just waiting for when Wheeljack or Perceptor or, by some dumb sheer luck, _both_ arrive. This is as simple as first-grade level math would be for you for them,” the electric-blue mech noted with a sigh.

“Until then we’ll make do. I managed to keep these diagrams of individual parts in all our types so that’s a big help, and both Ratchet and I possess the tools necessary to make the parts, so that helps, too,” the red-and-white medic added.

“Well, if you need help it should be okay if I do that, right?” she offered, but only received a reprimanding look from the Chief Medical Officer.

“Come now, Catherine. You’re smarter than that! We can’t afford for you to use your powers, _especially_ now that the Decepticons know the location of this place,” he scolded, and she held her hands up in surrender.

“It was just a suggestion! And, yes, I know the ‘Cons know we had the shard, but Hound has his scanners on twenty-four-seven, so he would know if one of them was here in the base. Besides, you’ve designed the room so that Energon can’t be detected, right?” she replied, and the medic nodded, but before he could speak she continued. “Anyways, like I said, it's just a suggestion. My powers can do it—you know they can since I fixed ‘Bee and made… um, well, you know. So, yeah. If you want some help, just let me know, alright?”

Ratchet waited a few moments before sighing, “Alright. But _only_ as a last resort. Go read your datapads.”

She grinned a little and moved back towards her drones and Sideswipe, whom also gave her a look. She mouthed “what”, and he replied with a small bit about how she did need to be careful. She told him she knew, of course, and he was, of course, skeptical, but let it slide, and she dived into the datapad. 

It was one about their culture, and she went through the subjects of entertainment. There was actually quite a lot, and Sideswipe was keen on telling her his favorites, such as the gladiator battles—which Ratchet made disdainful remarks about on the side—or the media section. Their entertainment wasn’t so different from their own, although were obviously more futuristic and involving mechanical beings instead of organics ones.

She went through many other subjects, including ones she’d gone through before. Sideswipe, being himself, poked fun at her for doing so, but she fended him off well enough and eventually moved onto their history. It was only about events known from before the Allspark was found, but it was still fascinating to learn about the clans, such as the Thetacons and the war that brought them together thanks to Sentinel Prime’s bid for finding the Allspark. It wasn’t Sideswipe's particularly favorite subject, but he showed interest anyways and commented on what he did know or remembered, which honestly wasn’t all that much beyond the civil war against Megatron.

She was about to head into learning about the Types of Cybertronians again, when, to her surprise, Ratchet called out to her. Both she and Sideswipe looked up, curious as the medic walked over, sighing.

“We… we might need your help,” he grumbled with much frustration. Catherine exchanged a look with Sideswipe before setting down the datapad and walking closer.

“What’s up?”

He turned to the other two, “We… we need help with… forming a certain part. The, ah, Converter isn’t yet able to make the adjustments we need in the way we have it. It continues to have errors. Normally we would be alright, but we are a little pressed for time with the chances of a full-scale battle rising...”

“You need say no more, Ratchet,” she smiled, stepping close for him to pick her up. “I’m happy to help, and I know you’ll get it eventually; you just need time, and I’m the quicker option.”

“You sure it’s okay for her to do so?” Sideswipe asked, optics narrowing ever-so-slightly with concern.

Ratchet nodded, “Yes. Just close the doors. The room is made to keep Energon signals from being detected, including Allspark ones.”

The silver mech nodded, and while he shut the door, the medic toted the redhead over to their work station. Jolt already had his whips out and ready. First Aid stood at the side curiously, having never seen the process. Just like old times, the electric-blue mech activated his whips and Catherine touched them to absorb the electrical energy into her body. Her body’s veins lit up in a bright blue glow, as did her irises, and she had to admit it felt good to feel the power running through her. She pulled away when she was ready, and Ratchet directed her to the part. Now that she had more control over the power, it was easy to channel the Allspark energy into the part, infusing all of with Energon and converting it into Cybertronian metal. The process was over in seconds, and all three medics were thankful, although First Aid was more so in awe.

The other got a good kick out of the red-and-white mech’s surprise, and even Catherine let a grin slip as she returned back to reading the datapads. Sideswipe has his own fun as well, poking small comments here and there, but he too was not concerned by any worries over their actions.

And high above, behind a row of thin slits in the walls where fresh air flowed from, a pair of red, glowing eyes gleamed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Night was deep over the dry plains of Africa, and most animals had settled down for the night. Any predators prowling did so wearily, as they were not alone in the darkness, nor had they been for many preceding nights. Had their visitors been any normal creature, they would have not been so anxious, but these guests were alien and strange, so the organic beasts were wise to be cautious and stray away from the strange group. They especially shied away when the night’s silence was shattered with a banshee-like screech that caused many to flee or disturbed those that rested. Only the metal aliens were eager for the owner of the cry, and one of them raised its arm up to receive the sharpened claws of the metal bird.

_“I have returned, Master,”_ the metallic avian mused, its voice like nails grating against a chalkboard. _“And I bring news.”_

_“You find ze Allspark zource?!”_ the doctor inquired eagerly, claws clicking together as such.

_“Indeed. Unfortunately it is at the behest of one of these human insects. It is a red-headed female; weak, but well protected by the Autobots,”_ the bird continued, red optics narrowing.

_“A_ human?! _Soundwave, zis cannot be!”_ the miniature metal being yelled, but a glance from the owner of the metallic bird silenced it.

" _Knowledge of Allspark limited. Full capabilities unknown. ‘How’ irrelevant. Containment of Allspark highest priority. Laserbeak,”_ Soundwave rumbled, and looked to the creature on its arm for more information.

_“The humans know how to fight us. We will need to separate her from the main force,”_ the bird mused, and Soundwave’s optics flashed with revelation.

_“Understood,”_ the metal being spoke and turned the others. _“Remain here. Guard Megatron. We will return. Prepare for revival. Planetary acquisition imminent.”_

**\----------------------------------------------**

**TMWolf:** _So. If you didn't believe me before- THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET WORSE. I think you know why. I've hinted it enough here. Catherine did not make a good decision this chapter. So. Steeljaw is dead. For sure. She's finally gotten better about it, but let be known she is not OVER it. She is very much so still upset by it, but she holds it back well, and the others are around to comfort her :) Jazz and Sideswipe do a good job of that by having their little "competitions", ha ha. Lennox and her team do their best, too, and Galloway is still an ass._

_Anyways, this was just a "filler" chapter, so not TOO much excitement. Well, besides the Decepticons, anyways. The Doctor is actually kind of fun to write xD;; His accent is so fun! And yes, I brought Soundwave to Earth and brought out Laserbeak early :) He'll be back in safe soon enough :P Just gotta go get a certain redhead first._

_And that's about it. Again, HAPPY MOTHERS DAY! :D_


	44. Dark Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The song by Lana del Rey has absolutely NOTHING to do with the chapter, but the name fit, ha ha... the song is just awesome, too.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, you’re in luck, _chica_ ,” Jorge Figueroa grinned as he clapped Catherine across the shoulders, “ _El Presidente_ is not going to consider you an enemy of the state!”

The redhead visibly relaxed against the Mexican man, and grins appeared on the faces of her other teammates, too. They had all come to give her the news, including Lennox who had been the one to round them all up. They’d also brought her daily meal and a nice surprise—soda fresh from the fridge—to “celebrate”. She’d actually already heard ahead of time from Jazz that she was “safe”, but it was good to hear it from her boys, too. Of course, she was still on suspension, and would not be able to work just yet. Morshower and Prime were still fighting for it, and it looked like they were winning, so it was assumed she could be back in action within a few weeks. Maybe. It all really depended on how much time and effort Galloway put into his offense.

“So, can I come back to the human side now, or am I still under house arrest over here?” she inquired after taking a long swig of her drink.

“Yes, but with restrictions,” Lennox replied, and she frowned. “You won’t be allowed into the Command Central or any room a normal ranking soldier couldn’t get into. You will be able to continue training now, but still no work.”

“Damn. Although I figured as much,” she snorted, folding her arms.

"Hey, it just means more time with us, am I right?” David grinned humorously at her, and she could help returning it.

Jackson waved his hand, “Yeah, don’t worry about it, ‘Cat. We’ll keep you from being bored. There’s plenty of ping pong to go around!”

“Because we all just _love_ playing ping pong with you,” Anthony barked, and the Asian man smiled like a fox.

“Aww, you mad that I always whoop your sorry ass?” he teased, and the Italian made a false swipe at their comrade.

“It’s ‘because he’s Asian, man. It’s like their sport, y’know?” Epps spoke in an attempt to ease the man’s temper.

“That’s racist, man!” Fig laughed, and the black man just snickered in return, knowing full well what he’d said.

“Alright now, let’s calm down shall we? We came to give Catherine good news, after all,” Alexander spoke up loudly, but it was Catherine who waved him off with her laughter.

“Naw, this is great, Alex. Just how I like it with my very strange, and multi-cultural family.”

“Ugh. Great. Now they have the incentive to act this way _all_ the time,” Lennox groaned, throwing his head back, and was promptly shoved by Epps whom was closest.

“So, how about we all go have fun, yeah? And I’m not talkin’ ping pong, either, Jackie Chan,” David suggested, shooting a quick glare at the Asian man who held up his hands in surrender. “We’ve got a tight lagoon beach now, so how about we make ourselves a volleyball net and get things rockin’ American style?”

“Y’know, that don’t sound so bad,” Fig hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Been dyin’ to try out those trunks _mi hermano_ got me for my birthday…”

“Don’t tell me it’s though obnoxious palm tree ones,” the blonde-haired man scowled, and he received one back.

“Don’t be mocking _mi hermano’s_ gift, _gilipollas!_ ”

“Insults only work in the same language!” David cackled.

Fig growled, “Don’t make me beat the crap outta you, _asshole_!”

“And here I thought we were going to have a fun time. Allow me to apologize on their behalf, Catherine,” Alexander sighed, but again Catherine waved him off.

“Trust me—I _love_ this stuff. But, uh, I actually have plans to go play video games with Bluestreak and Arcee.”

All turned to her with wide, surprised eyes. She literally had to back up and hold out her arms to keep them from squishing her as they huddled up close.

“You have video games?! Why you been holding out on us?” Anthony exclaimed, and she scratched the back of her head awkwardly as she shrugged.

“Uh, well, I _thought_ I mentioned it, but, um… oops?”

“Alright, c’mon, guys. Back off before I have to clobber you,” Lennox ordered, pushing and pulling them back before coming up close to her. “Now, what’s this about video games that you were so inclined to _not_ tell us? Are we talking COD or what?”

She grinned, “Yeah. The ‘bots got Call of Duty installed, along with some Halo and a lot of racing games. They really like the racing games for whatever reason. Jazz was the one who got it going, with some help, of course.”

“Aw, no way! So cool! But what do they do for controllers?” Jackson inquired, and murmurs of similar notions went around.

“Uh, well, they just kind of connect to it wirelessly and they use their… uh… bodies, I guess, to control it. I got my own controller ordered, so humans _can_ play, but there’s only one controller now, since, uh, the Autobots and I didn’t really think any humans besides me would be playing video games with them.”

Anthony grasped her shoulder, staring her right in the eyes, “Take us there. Now.”

Catherine looked between all of them, their expressions saying about the same thing, and with a laugh, she took them there.

It wasn’t too far—just to one of the smaller hangars that was large enough to accommodate a handful of Autobots and plenty of humans. There was an old, cheap-looking sofa for humans to sit on, scrounged up from some random closet on the Autobot side. There were also a few random large, metal objects were pulled up—improvised chairs for their Cybertronian competition. A fairly large TV that Catherine explained was a modified datapad screen was attached to the wall, with another datapad-like device below it that served as the game station. Most of the work was really Jolt’s doing, who had a knack for tinkering with human electronics, and so it wasn’t difficult for him to heavily modify the datapad to play any game from any station, obtained in ways that weren’t spoken of and with no means of tracking. Despite the not-so-legal obtaining of the entertainment, the gaming was over-looked for the sheer amount of fun it brought and the fact it kept certain, _extremely_ bothersome Autobots out of Prime’s circuits.

Needless to say, Catherine’s team was excited—enough so that both Bluestreak and Arcee were startled for a moment when they shouted out at the sight despite there only being one human-sized controller.

“I see you brought guests,” the pink-armored femme hummed, though not with displeasure.

“Figured you guys could use some more competition,” the red head winked as she plopped down on the sofa, and was soon joined by the others who squeezed in as best as they could.

“It’ll definitely be more exciting with more people!” Bluestreak chimed with a bright smile on his face. “Although I guess only one of you can play at a time, which is a shame, because then we could have a lot more people on that Call of Duty game. It would make things a lot more competitive, although those people online are very much so. I still don’t understand why they’re so intent on calling me a ‘gay-fag’ or some other obscene human word. They also seem to think I am twelve-years old or younger. I don’t say anything, of course, but it’s weird, especially since I’m pretty sure most of them are actually the age they try to call me, so it’s like they’re insulting themselves.”

“Ah, yeah… don’t, uh, worry about that, ‘Blue. The internet is, uh, filled with crazy people. Anyways, it’s it COD today or Gran Turismo or…?”

“Call of Duty all the way, man!” Fig shouted out, nearly hopping out of out his spot. “And I call dibs on first round!”

“Ooh, I like your teams’ taste, Catherine,” Arcee purred, optics flashing. “These ‘first person shooters’ are much more thrilling than the racing ones.”

“Mind if I join?” a familiar voice called out, and they all looked to find Sideswipe rolling over, a confident grin on his face plates. While her teammates were surprised, Catherine had known he would be there. They had made it a point that her guardians would be “hidden” or “casually” nearby to not alert any of the humans of anything, so while he wasn’t seen, she knew he was there. Jazz would have joined them, too, but he was working with Ratchet and Ironhide on weapons at the moment.

“Ah, now it’s a _real_ challenge!” the femme laughed as she waved him over.

“Oh this is so exciting! Now we’re going to have a four-screen split and we’ve got all these humans playing with us, too! Now it’ll be easier to take out the other people online. They’re actually really easy to beat, or that’s what I think. I dunno. Maybe it’s because we’re interfaced and they’re just using a controller?” Bluestreak inquired and would have gone on, but was interrupted when Sideswipe rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s just play the game and not worry about it, ‘Blue,” he chuckled and took the seat next to Arcee. “I’m linked, so let’s get started!”

Whoops came from all around as Fig took up the controller, and gleefully leaned forward for optimal playing. The others leaned back, relaxing, but as soon as the fight started, they were shouting and screaming as was customary for such a game. Whenever Fig died, the controller was passed on to the next person, and when they died it was passed on again. The cycle continued on and on for hours, everyone having a good time, and when it was finally over—work calling—there was much talk of spreading the news and getting more controllers and possible even more screens for optimal gaming. Unfortunately, that was going to have to wait until another time.

Unlike her comrades, Catherine, was able to stay, and she happily continued gaming with the Autobots, whom also switched out when they had to leave or others came in.

All in all, it was a good day that day.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was hot and bright in its midday spot in the sky, its rays heating the beach to a scorching temperature despite the ocean waves. That was of no concern, however, to the towering, metallic being which had planted its three-pronged feet onto the sandy surface. Its frame was dark-blue, almost black, in the light, and its single, red optic glowed ominously upon the ocean, its gaze reaching farther than any human could hope to. What it saw or planned was unknown, its mouth sealed shut as its mind worked quickly and efficiently. It had not moved for some time, and remained so even as a metallic, feline beast emerged from the tree line behind it, its frame painted with red stains that any human would know to be blood. The beast made a guttural sound as it loped to the metal being’s side where it sat upon its haunches, a loyal pet returning to its master.

_“Humans eliminated,”_ the being finally spoke with assurance, and the metal feline snarled in confirmation. The being hummed with approval, still staring off at that something far away. Its gaze, shifted, however, as the whirring of blades reached its audio receptors, and its red optic turned to the sky where a helicopter appeared over the tree line. The aerial machine settled down at a low height and from there its parts shifted, forming into a creature not unlike the metal being. It landed with a muted thud and its optics—a burning red—regarded the metal being and feline with the same respect as one who knew their better.

_“Grindor reporting, Soundwave,”_ the former-helicopter spoke, head bowing slightly.

The metal being showed nothing in its features, _“Decepticons gathered?”_

_“Yes,”_ Grindor nodded. _“Overload, Scrapper, Octane, Divebomb, Skytalker, and myself, as requested.”_

_“Confirmed.”_

_“Shall I… ready them for flight?”_

_“Negative. Waiting required at present. Temporary alternative: find human remnants. Destroy all.”_

Grindor nodded, bowing its head again, _“Affirmative.”_

With that, their body shifted again, transforming back into a helicopter. It hovered briefly before lifting into the air and soaring back the way it came. Soundwave’s optics turned back to the waters, the metal feline at its feet slumping to its belly and resting its head upon its claws. It wouldn’t be long now—very soon they would begin their attack and at last their plans would begin to see fruition. The Autobots would fall, and the Decepticons would rise again with Megatron as their leader and herald of chaos and destruction. This planet would be theirs.

And in the distance, a human screamed.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“So how top secret are those new weapons you’ve all had Ratchet making?” Catherine inquired casually from atop Sideswipe’s torso, angling her head back to look over at her white-and-blue-armored, Cybertronian brother. In her lap, her three drones slept peacefully, and on the pavement her two Cybertronian companions sat, relaxed.

Jazz smirked, “Only a little. Ain’t much ta talk ‘bout n’ways. Things are just in their startin’ stages, ya see. An’ it’s mostly Ironhide doin’ all the talkin’. I’m more an info courier, ya dig?”

“That’s because Ironhide’s trying to make weapons powerful enough to blow up a planet—not like he doesn’t have enough of those already,” Sideswipe added, rolling his optics. “Chromia’s no better. You guys should have just asked me to design weapons.”

“Oh? Ya think ya got the smarts ta make a good weapon, yeah?” the other mech smirked challengingly, but it wasn’t the silver mech who responded.

“Actually, he’s not too shabby. I still have those blades he made for me in my room. Granted, I haven’t been able to use them since I’ve only ever trained on the human side, but they’re pretty freaking awesome,” Catherine smiled, and the silver mech gave Jazz a “See? What’d I tell you?” look.

“Blades are aright n’ all if ya fightin’ close n’ personal, but not so much for long-range, kiddo,” the white-and-blue mech shook his head.

Sideswipe frowned, “I can make guns, too! I always had to make some for Sunstreaker since he always ended up breaking his blades, the idiot!”

“Well, maybe ya should head down and show them what’s what, hmm?” the redhead mused, and Jazz shrugged.

“Couldn’t hurt ta give ‘em some more ideas. Ironhide’s designs are a little too complicated for dat machine ‘o theirs.”

“Again, because he’s trying to blow up a planet,” Sideswipe snorted, Catherine laughed, and even Jazz chuckled a little. Silence descended for a few moments, all three gazing out at the ocean where the sun was beginning to set, turning the sky red. Eventually a question came to the redhead’s mind, and she turned to her Cybertronian brother for the answer.

“So… um, any more news about me getting my job back?”

“Y’know, I coulda sworn ya complained all the time about ya job… now ya want it back?” he teased, and she pouted at him, which only made him laugh as he waved off her anger. “Serious talkin', though—the process is slow goin’, shorty. Galloway is workin’ hard, though ya been proven innocent ‘o however they wanna put it. Good news is that it’s basically a sure thing ya gonna get ya job back. Ya influence might not be what it used ta be, but ya will get ya job back, an’ that’s somethin’ am I right?”

She sighed with a relief and leaned back, “That’s definitely something. Not a _huge_ something, but _something_. And I can work on the influence. General Morshower still likes me, and if he likes me, then most other generals will. Er—well, maybe. He could at least give a good opinion of me since I’ve never talked to any of them personally; just letters or invoices or whatever.”

“Well, maybe you should start talking to them then,” Sideswipe spoke, and she glanced back at him. “Prime always has those meetings, so you should join in and talk to them. Just think of it like, uh… a… uh.. promotion? Yeah, that’s it. A promotion.”

“A ‘promotion’? Maybe… but I dunno if I want to talk to any of them in person. I’m always better at getting points across in writing, anyways,” she hummed with a frown.

“Eh, it was just a suggestion. You gotta get your job back first.”

“An’ ya will. It’s just gonna take a little bit longer than ya’d like. Longer than what any ‘o us would like—‘specially Smokey. He sees what ya mean about Galloway bein’ an ass.”

She snorted, “Damn right he is. Blah. I can wait. I’m finally ungrounded, too, so I can keep myself very busy with training and whatever else.”

“Bored of us, already?” Sideswipe inquired innocently with mock hurt.

“Ain’t we good enough for ya, shorty?”

“Aww, don’t worry, guys. You’re both still my favorites. Jazz, my favorite big bro, and Sideswipe, my favorite pain in the ass,” she smiled, and, despite the “insult”, the silver mech grinned.

“Even more of a pain than Dumb and Dumber?”

“Even more than them, which is really saying—.”

The redhead would have finished, but she felt Sideswipe go stiff, and saw Jazz do much the same. When she attempted to ask what was wrong, his hand shot up, asking for silence, and she gave it. It only took a few seconds for them to start moving, the white-and-blue mech shooting up, while Sideswipe moved slowly so as to not send her tumbling. With a quick command, he had her move to his shoulder, drones in tow, and grab on tight as he zoomed by her Cybertronian brother. The saboteur wasn’t going to fall behind, though, and kept up at a run as they moved swiftly through the halls, the sounds of alarms blaring loudly.

She knew at once what was happening, and fear spiked through like a sharp, cold knife into her chest. The other Autobots knew it, too-- she saw many sprint by them with weapons ready. She dared not speak as her two guardians sped around corners and down the hallways, ending their frenzied sprint at the Medbay doors. They were already open, and Ratchet, whom spotted the trio, quickly ushered them in. The room was already empty save for the chief medic, and all their supplies were still out, abandoned. The green-armored mech wasn’t concerned with the clutter as he usually was, ordering them to stay put, and reminding them the room would hide their signatures. Then he was gone, racing after the rest, and Sideswipe finally set Catherine down, her arms holding her drones tight.

“They… The Decepticons don’t know _I’m_ the Allspark do they?” she asked aloud softly, the words nearly sticking in her throat.

Sideswipe’s blades extended, “I don’t know, but they’re not getting you even if they do.”

“Even if they are lookin’, they’re on the wrong side ‘o the island, and we got more Autobots n’ humans than they got ‘Cons. They won’t be able ta get here so easily, and it ain’t no easy thing ta get through me n’ Sides. So sit n’ get comfy, shorty. We ain’t gonna let ‘em get ya,” Jazz added, though he had unsheathed his machine-like gun and formed his shield on the other arm.

Catherine nodded, but stayed standing, the worry etched on her face. She supposed it was possible the ‘Cons had come for another reason—perhaps they were looking for the other source; the _real_ Shard, so to speak. It was possible they didn’t know _she_ actually had the power, so they wouldn’t be looking for her at all. They probably wouldn’t even find them here, anyways. The room was designed to keep Energon signatures from being found, or most any signature for that matter—even Hound’s sensors couldn’t penetrate it unless a _large_ amount of power was used—so there wasn’t much to worry about. That’s what she told herself, but deep down she had the terrible, sinking feeling they had come for _her_. They knew she was the Allspark, and they were coming.

Worse, she knew that the other Autobots and NEST soldiers were fighting the Decepticons because of _her_. She could just see them being turned to scorched corpses by the Energon blasts, or torn apart by claws. She could see the Autobots as they suffered blow after blow until they fell—all because the Decepticons were here for her. All because she hadn’t been careful and they had somehow found out. It tore at her insides, and though her drones cooed at her, trying to give comfort, it was a fruitless venture, and her shoulders shook with a mixture of rage and despair and fear.

“Looks like they’re making their way over ta the vault where we had the Shard,” Jazz spoke after a few moments, though it felt hours. “’Cons must think we got another piece ‘o ta Allspark there.”

“They’re doing pretty good for just a handful of ‘Cons,” Sideswipe growled. “I Slaggin’ hate fliers, and the ‘Cons are full of them.”

“Springer, Blazemaster, and Scattershot got ‘em covered. Have some faith, mech.”

Catherine let the smallest slither of relief flow into her, though fear’s knife was still buried deep and twisting. So they didn’t know. That was good. The Autobots had aerial support, so they were effectively outnumbering the Decepticons. The Autobots were smart, too. They would make sure they did heavy damage to the enemy while also protecting their human counterparts. The Decepticons would be crushed, and everything would be okay. It was just a matter of waiting. They just had to wait it out here, where she was safe and the ‘Cons couldn’t get her or her powers.

And then that small relief, which had begun to make the transformation into hope, was effectively shattered as an explosion ripped through a wall just outside the room. Her two guardian sprang into action at once, Sideswipe first moving her back to the floor and shoving her into a spot relatively hidden from view before returning to join Jazz as he faced the direction the blast had come from. Catherine held her breath as seconds of silence passed and nothing happened. Then the world exploded with sound, lights, fire, and debris. She held back a shout as she backed up more from the battle. Heartbeat racing wildly, she dared a look, and she saw a large, towering mech with dark-blue, almost black armor and single, long, visor-like red optic that glowed with malice she’d only seen once before in the optics of the Decepticon leader.

A flash of silver blocked her view, and Sideswipe’s blade carved a gash into the Decepticon’s armor. However, the mech then grabbed his arm and flung him into the wall, but the Autobot shook it off and went for another blow. Jazz struck at the same time, showering the unknown mech with Energon bullets that clipped and dented the armor, but could not pierce it. Sideswipe, meanwhile, came in for the second strike. The 'Con ducked underneath the blow, digging their clawed hand into the silver mech’s abdomen, and spun, throwing him into the white-and-blue mech. Both quickly sprang up, but the Decepticon suddenly braced itself, spread it arms, and the two large circles on its chest glowed bright blue.

Catherine was fairly certain her ears had burst when the invisible blast of high-pitched sound exploded through the room, cracking any glass, and causing the walls and floor to shake. Both Sideswipe and Jazz cried out with pain, unable to shut off their audio receptors in time. Their sensors were scrambled as well, and not even Jazz could aim properly after the force of the blast threw them back. The Decepticon began to draw closer, a confident glint in its single optic. However, the two Autobots were not out, as both proved by standing up, guns and blade still ready.

The Decepticon prepared to fire another blast, but Sideswipe quickly fired one of his blades, which buried deep into the enemy’s shoulder. The mech snarled something in Cybertronian, its attack foiled, and both Autobots took the chance to continue their assault. Jazz altered his ammo to heavier round, which finally managed to break through the armor, and Sideswipe managed to dodge strikes, grab his blade, and rip it out along with circuitry, but the mech was hardly finished. With a roar, the Decepticon released a smaller blast then the one before, and it struck Sideswipe head on. He flew back, crashing near Catherine, who yelped with surprise. The silver mech groaned as he leaned back up, but paused when he saw her.

“Go!” he hissed, optics flicking towards the hole in the entrance. “We’ll distract him! Run!”

He shot up then, and Catherine moved. She did so carefully, going behind cover after cover while her two guardians engaged the Decepticon, dodging and taking blows, while the enemy did the same but without ever looking as if he were about to fall. Her drones chirped worriedly in her arms, but she shushed them as she managed to get behind the ‘Con. She watched carefully as the two Autobots slashed and fired at him, but the mech was like a stalwart wall, taking hit after hit as if they were nothing, although some ripped through his armor. He was distracted, too, so she took the chance to sprint the rest of the way. However, she wasn’t as careful as she thought, as the mech noticed and, with a silent command, a metallic feline ejected from his abdomen, dodging strikes as it did so, and lunged to cut her off. She saw, and skidded to a halt as the beast leaped over her, snarling and flashing its fangs.

“Catherine!” She heard one of them yell, and then the feline yowled as a silver blade sliced through its side—not fatally, but enough to make it move and give her room to run past. She heard the beast snarl and its claws scrape against the metal to come after her, but then she looked back and found the silver mech there, grasping his blade and swiping it at the metal feline. Jazz soon joined him, but not of his doing; the Decepticon had blasted him there, and the blue-and-white mech staggered a little as he rose. Both mechs stood side by side, weapons raised, and Catherine could see they were damaged just as badly as their foe.

She wanted to badly to stay and help in some way, even if it was hopeless, but she knew she had to leave, too. Her body became stuck in an endless moment, her two sides fighting to decide what to do. Her protectors were damaged—broken armor; frayed wires; leaking Energon—and their enemy still stood like the tank he was, and now there was another; a beast that had an uncanny resemblance to her child. The realization sparked a fury within her as she knew who had murdered Steeljaw, but it was rivaled by the urgency to flee and not be caught. Again, she was stuck, and her stupor was only broken with the sound of metal hitting against metal and the whine of a gun.

The metal feline and the Decepticon looked beyond Sideswipe and Jazz, and they followed his line of sight not a second later. Catherine did the same and let her mouth drop as the last mech she expected to find was amazingly right behind her, gun aimed not at Autobots, but their enemy.

“Barricade!” she breathed, but was ignored by the ex-Con as he took in the scene before him, though betrayed nothing of his intention.

“Barricade,” Jazz spoke next, dark and clear, though returned his optics to the towering ‘Con, “if there was ever a time ya wanted ta prove yaself, now’s that time. Take Catherine and get her ta someplace safe. You do that, and we be square, ya hear?”

“Understood,” was his only reply, his optics glancing between the Autobot second-command and the Decepticon just beyond. He kept his gun raised as he leaned down and wrapped his fingers around Catherine, squeezing tightly. She gasped, the air rushing out, and she dropped her drones which squealed with concern. Both Autobots whirled around, alarmed, only to have an Energon blast hit each of them, square in the chest. The redhead tried to scream, but his grip was too tight. Down below, her drones began to click and howl at Barricade, whom regarded them with contempt and, without a second thought, stepped on them, ending their cries with a sickening crunch. Again, Catherine tried to scream, but could not.

_“You Autobots are sickeningly naïve… and too trusting,”_ he spat in Cybertronian at the two Autobots as they struggled to get up. _“I have her Soundwave. Let’s leave before the others arrive.”_

The dark-blue mech said nothing as he strolled past the Autobots, both nearly on their feet, and led both his metal feline and Barricade to the entrance he had made earlier.

" _S-stop!”_ Sideswipe snarled, and prepared to throw another blade despite the leaking hole in his abdomen. He wasn’t even able to make it half-way through his swing before Soundwave turned, chest already glowing blue, and struck both Autobots with a blast. The forced knocked them into the other wall, and they slumped down, unconscious. The Decepticon continued on with Barricade, still silent. And in the black-and-white mech’s hands, Catherine’s eyes watered as she tried and tried to scream, but could not.

_“Took you long enough to get here,”_ Barricade grumbled as they walked to the beach, and lifted their optics toward the large, cargo ship slowly making its way to them.

_“Delayed,”_ Soundwave replied simply, and glanced down at Catherine, who breathed painfully now. _“Relinquish target.”_

Barricade snorted as he handed the redhead to his commander, whom held her more gently, for which her lungs were grateful, but then she turned on her previous holder with pure contempt.

“You fucking bastard!” she shrieked, and then yelped as the hand holding her tightening for a moment—a warning.

“It’s not my fault you deluded yourself, human. I never once claimed to be your ‘ally’.”

“I swear to God I’ll kill you!” she hissed, and the hand tightened again, though not as roughly.

Barricade merely smirked for a brief moment, amused, and then the cargo ship arrived and lowered its rear door for them. Catherine was at their mercy, and she could barely manage to look back into the base at the prone form of her two guardians, in stasis, but alive, she knew. The tears welled up again, but she wiped them away quickly to prepare herself for what was to come and to pray that she could somehow, someway, stop it.

First, though, she had to stop her body from quivering with fear.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh shit…” were the first words from William Lennox’s mouth as his team and the Autobots arrived at the main compound after the Decepticons had retreated. While most of the base was still intact, a good chunk of the Autobot side was blown completely away. He didn’t know what could have done it, but it was something big and something _powerful_. Whatever it was, he knew it was gone, and so followed Optimus inside to check the rubble. What he found didn’t sit well with his stomach, and he imagined not with the Autobots either.

If he remembered right, the room was the Med Bay, and it was a complete fucking mess. It was like a war zone had gone on in the place, and when he looked where Ratchet and Optimus had gone, he saw it had victims. He knew most of their names now, but those two he especially knew—Jazz and Sideswipe. They looked dead with their optics black, and holes leaking their version of blood all over their metal bodies, although their Chief Medical Officer reassured Prime they were still alive; they were just in stasis. Will came closer, his mind running through what he knew about the two, and when he came to a single, very important fact, he stopped short in his tracks.

These two had been assigned to watch over Catherine. They had been her guards in the event of a Decepticon attack. They were supposed to keep her from falling into their hands. They were unconscious. They were heavily damaged. The place was a war zone. Catherine was nowhere to be found. Already his heart beat was rising, even before he rushed over to Prime’s side, eyes wide.

“Where’s Catherine?!” he shouted loudly, catching the attention of two Autobots and many of those behind him. Medic and Commander looked at one another with almost as much worry as he did, and he felt his stomach drop. “Oh God… Don’t tell me…”

Sideswipe arched up then, optics flaring to life, and Ratchet moved to press him down just as his arms swung out to strike something. It took a good few seconds before he calmed and then cursed as his body realized it was in pain. The medic began to work right away, but the silver mech interrupted him as he looked up at Prime, his optics in despair.

“They took her!” he rasped. “Barricade—he… he betrayed us! Took her with—with Soundwave!”

The room was quiet as he fell back, exhausted. His optics dimmed as if about to offline again, but they were just barely able to stay on. The medic worked hard to seal the wound, and once he did, he moved onto Jazz who was starting to come online, too. In the meantime, Optimus gazed down at the floor, his optics revealing the fearful thoughts going through his mind. Lennox was much the same, and seeing the Autobot’s Commander’s expression only made it worse. His teammates didn’t help either as they came up, their faces full of questions.

“Yo, Lennox… What… What’d he mean by that?” Epps asked, and the human Commander wished so badly he didn’t have to answer it.

“The Decepticons… took Catherine,” he replied weakly, and he saw their eyes widen.

Alexander went next, “Commander… why... why would they take her?”

“Because,” he began, pausing to briefly curse and a run a hand through his hair. He had promised never to tell, but there was really no choice in this situation. “Because she’s the Allspark.”

As he expected, they looked at him like he was completely out of his mind and he sighed again. They weren’t the only ones, though. The other soldiers in the room were equally confused, and even the Autobots that had not been let in on the secret looked between each other and Prime with the same perplexing expression.

“You know how we said the Allspark was destroyed in Mission City? Well, it wasn’t. Its powers went into Catherine. You know those experiments? She made them. She can heal the Autobots or anyone like them. She can give them _life_. She’s their Allspark. And the Decepticons have her.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _WHELP. THERE WE GO. Catherine is captured and now her secret is out! :D Oh, and don't worry about Sideswipe and Jazz- they're alive and will be okay. As for Catherine... well, the 'Cons have plans for her and they're not good. Prepare for even worse slag next chapter and the one after~_

_Oh, and, yes, Barricade has NEVER been an Autobot, he's just been a "neutral", but he's never been an Autobots. He only helped because he saw them as the better "option". However, Laserbeak, while in the vents, had a nice, secret conversation and he chose his side :) He, uh... also killed her three drones. So. Um. Yeah. All her kids are dead. I'm just an awful human being :c_

_Hoped people liked my depiction of the Decepticons. To be honest, I thought the movies didn't depict the 'Cons deadly enough. They're supposed to be the cruel, merciless mechs built for war, so I hoped to show them as such with that little island scene and this last bit with 'ol Barricade. Soundwave I find should be especially ruthless, but that's just me ;)_

_And yesh~ they have video games on the base! Too bad they won't be playing them for a while now that this has gone down. Expect trouble on base now and even more from Catherine, who we will be following for a good while._

_And I think that's about it~ TIME FOR EVEN WORSE THINGS TO HAPPEN :D_


	45. Headlong into the Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** "text" = Cybertronian speech
> 
> We Are Augustines - Headlong into the Abyss

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine was terrified.

She had managed to stop her body from shaking some time ago, but she was still terrified. For good reason, of course. She'd have to be an emotionless rock to not be scared as she was held not too tightly, but not loose enough to get free in the hands of a Decepticon. Granted, there wasn't really anywhere she could go if she did manage to escape, being that she was in the back of a cargo plane-disguised Decepticon, with a whole lot more surrounding her and her captor. They had been staring at her at one point, and had even made movements to come after her, but her captor—she still didn't know who, but they were a deadly, silent force that was able to force the others to submit with a short burst of their language and a flash of his single, long visor-like optic.

And throughout it all, she said nothing. There was no point. She knew none of these metal bastards cold be swayed, and she knew her captor—while keen on keeping her intact and unharmed—would not be letting her go for any other purpose than to do what they wanted her to. Unfortunately, that "purpose" made her stomach twist in a knot and made her swear to not let them get it no matter what. It was possible they didn't even know _how_ she did it, so that might help her. They obviously needed her, too, so that could keep her alive for a while—possibly even long enough for the Autobots and NEST to find her.

She tightened her fingers as she thought back on her comrades, recalling the fallen forms of her two guardians. She felt her throat constrict a little, and she had to close her eyes to keep her barriers she had formed from breaking down in the plane's hold. She would not let them see her cry or sob or anything! Not even if Jazz and Sideswipe had been hurt so badly they could be dead. 

She shook the thought away; they couldn't be dead. Ratchet wouldn't let them. She'd lost too many to lose any more. First Steeljaw and then her drones? Those two _couldn't_ be dead.

She glanced over at the mech sitting beside them and glared, though he didn't see it as he stared nonchalantly at the Decepticons across from him. Her vow be damned, she was going to kill Barricade. She was going to make sure he suffered the most brutal death possible, either by her hand or someone else's. She shouldn't have expected him to side with the Autobots, but she had and she knew her rage was partly because of her pride, but he was still going to suffer. He had killed her drones without even a second thought and shot her two guardians; he would _pay_.

She felt the hand gripping her tighten some, the metal edges pressing through her clothes, into her skin. She bit back a small hiss and turned to look at the mech holding her. His optic did not meet her gaze, but she knew by the action that he didn't appreciate her glaring or possible even her thoughts. She could almost swear he was able to read them—having tightened his hand when, in a state of desperation, she once thought of using her powers to possible escape—and that notion did indeed frighten her a little more. Regardless, even with his silence, he had made it quite clear she was going nowhere and not going to do anything but what they required of her.

_"Tsk. How much longer? This place is too cramped!"_ one of the Decepticons shouted, though Catherine could make none of it out. Still, she watched, and knew they were not pleased with their situation.

_"Shut your processor!"_ another snarled, jabbing a clawed finger at them.

_"What was that, you slagger?!"_ the first growled back, standing up.

_"Order: Cease argument,"_ her captor spoke evenly, and the two became silent at once, though they scowled unhappily. Beside her, Barricade chuckled with amusement.

_"So this is who was chosen to go with the Fallen?"_ he inquired, his words seething with insult, and he received many sharp looks.

_"What was that, you piece of scrap?"_ the 'Con across from him barked, and the others added their own insults.

_"Order:_ Cease _instigations,"_ her captor said again, this time with more force, and, again, the others went quiet except for Barricade, whom just chuckled once more. _"Barricade: desist."_

_"Can't a 'Con have a little fun, Soundwave? I've had to live with those slagging Autobots for solar cycles now,"_ he snorted.

Soundwave simply replied, _"Desist."_

The Decepticon rolled his optics, but then noticed Catherine glaring at him again, and so smirked, "I'm going to be the least of your worries soon, human."

He laughed when Catherine looked away, her face set into a scowl as she folded her arms across her chest. They soon wrapped around her sides, too, as she hid her fear behind the scowl. She hated—no, _loathed_ , him, but he was right. He was the least of her concerns right now. She knew exactly what they wanted from her, and she had to do everything she could to stop it from happening. If only it would never come!

Unfortunately, the thought was hopeless, as the Deception they rode within began to lower, and the mechs around her grew less antsy and angered. Relief even came upon their features, which only caused dread to filter onto hers. It only worsened as the plane landed with a thud, the door opened, and her captor rose. Her heart beat quickened and she felt adrenaline's flames fly through her, though she could do nothing to adhere to the instinctive call to flee. She could only keep her arms wrapped tight and bite her lip as the towering, one-optic mech descended the loading ramp and walked out into the dusty, arid air.

There was no doubt she was far from home—both the base and the ranch. The landscape was mostly golden grass or dirt, and a few, scraggily trees here or there. In the distance she thought she make out moving shapes, but it could have easily been a mirage of the scorching heat, which within a few seconds had formed beads of sweat on her brow that were preparing to dribble down. Her view was blurred for a moment as her captor turned, and she felt the fire in her veins freeze.

Although she had fully expected it, it was still a shock to see the innate form of the deceased Decepticon leader lying on the hot ground, surrounded by other 'Cons, whom looked eagerly to her captor. They also gave her confused glances, though made no move against her or her captor, whom brought them before Megatron's body. She remembered him all too well, along with the short battle she had against him. Even lifeless he seemed so dangerous, and she could not help feeling that his optics were about to burst to life and his claws about to rip her apart in vengeance.

_"Doctor: target acquired,"_ Soundwave spoke, and, not a moment later, a small silver, spider-like Decepticon appeared from within the Decepticon leader's armor. Its bug-like eyes peered up at her, scrutinizing her with disgust before snorting.

_"Zis human Allzspark? How zis work?"_ it barked loudly, like a small dog facing off against a bigger one.

_"Cause: energon,"_ the larger mech replied, and proceeded to send a shock through Catherine's body. She yelped with both surprise and pain, and her veins lit up along with her irises. She silently cursed as she curled tight, biting back the burning sensation.

_"I zee... Most interezting. Place in zpark chamber! We begin!"_ the Doctor cried gleefully, scuttling to the empty hole in Megatron's chest, and gestured for Soundwave to move her there. The mech stepped closer, and, though Catherine attempted to move away from the hole, it was useless, and he pinned her down. She wriggled in his grip, but that, too, was useless, and he shocked her again, producing another yelp. Her body lit, but no shots of lightning came forth and thus no spark with it. The Doctor frowned, and ordered Soundwave to repeat, which he did. Again, only a yelp, glowing veins, and no spark. The Decepticons began to frown and murmur while the small, spider-like mech made a cry of disgust and frustration.

_"Ze human no work! Explain!"_ it barked, and the mech brought Catherine close to his optic. She continued to silently curse as she looked into the red, her body still writhing with pain.

"Human: relinquish knowledge of Allspark," Soundwave spoke. Catherine glared back, and, forgoing her stupidity, spat into his optic. Around them, some of the Decepticons chuckled, while others looked between one another, as if knowing nothing good would come of it. However, anything expected did not come, as the Doctor let off a sound of annoyance.

_"More Energon! Activate Allspark!"_ he shouted, scuttling around unhappily.

_"Human resistance: limited. Excessive Energon will terminate_ ," Soundwave responded, though there was a note to his voice that hinted at thought. The doctor noticed and peered up, curiously. Her captor's mind worked fast, and, with a glance at one of the Decepticons along with a few short words, he moved her back to Megatron's chest. At the same time, two Decepticons grabbed the one between them—a small, but bulky 'Con who shrieked with rage and confusion as he was brought before the prone form of their leader, held tight by the other two.

_"Doctor: reveal spark,"_ Soundwave ordered, and the tiny Decepticon scuttled over to the struggling 'Con, moving up towards his neck. The mech screeched and shouted, but could do nothing as the spider-like mech prodded through the wires of his neck and, with a bit of tinkering, forced its chest to open, revealing a blue, glowing sphere within. Catherine eyes widened at the sight, knowing full well what her captors intended. She began to struggle just as the 'Con did, but Soundwave held her tight in Megatron's empty spark chamber.

_No, no, no, no, no!!!_ was all her mind could think to scream as the restrained 'Con was brought closer and closer until she could feel its energy thrumming against her skin. She struck against the metal hand holding her, but it was no use, and Soundwave sent another shock through her. Her powers reacted at once, lighting up her body. Only this time, it didn't stop. Her body arched towards the 'Con's spark and the mech screamed when her powers tapped into it.

She felt both her own pain and his at the same time, and she too screamed as her body felt like it was on fire. She had made many sparks before, but this was nothing like those times. Everything the 'Con she stole from felt, she did too—as if she were hurting herself. She could also see everything in his mind—his thoughts; his fears; his memories; _everything_. It was all so clear, and it frightened her as she felt herself become him in those memories; felt herself tear mechs apart with pleasure. He was not the only one, though. She felt the memories of those who held him, and lived through them as well. They all meshed together in a bloodied rancor.

And then—oh then she felt _it_ , and she wished with her all might for it to stop, but her body and mind were no longer her own. It belonged to the one who held her, and all she could find within him was emptiness. Pure black emptiness. No emotions. No thoughts. No memories. No vileness. Nothing. It was deafening and terrifying. It began to swallow her; consume her; overtake her. She was becoming nothing. She was losing herself in the nothingness. She tried to scream, but she had no voice. She tried to move, but she had no limbs. There was only silence.

Then she was real once more. She was alive; she could breathe; she could scream; she could feel. She could feel the spark forming beneath her, created from those she had taken from. The memories were no longer those of the Decepticons or the silence. Now she saw memories of massacre; of madness; of a shadow; of lies; of jealousy; of hatred; of power; of betrayal; of ravage; of destruction; of chaos. She knew at once who it was that she had become. She knew all too well, and again she screamed. She tried and tried to stop her power; tried to keep the spark from forming; to keep the memories from flowing into her. She did not want to kill those defenseless mechs and femmes and younglings. She did not want to start a war; she did not want to betray Optimus or rip Bumblebee's voice box from his throat. She did not want to be Megatron.

She thought it would never end as the memories continued to flood her. They began to coagulate again, but this time they formed into a blindingly bright sky, with rugged, sharp mountains before it. She knew the place, and this time she was not alone. Twelve beings stood before her, but their faces were blurred and dark, and they spoke, but she could not hear them. And then they turned away, and she saw them no more.

Finally, it ended.

Soundwave pulled away, and the other two Decepticons dropped the lifeless husk of their former companion to the ground. Below them, Megatron's chest pulsed with a blue, beating sphere that thrummed with Energon. It remained quelled for a moment longer, before suddenly sending a wave through him, which shook his entire frame. His optics flared to life at once, and a beastly roar erupted from his throat. His warriors moved back as he rose, his gaze unfocused and filled with rage and thirst for Energon. He was a feral beast before them, but they would not raise their defenses if only because Soundwave commanded it. He alone spoke out to their leader, and his voice seemed to work; the powerful Decepticon stopped, optics meeting his ally's single one, and a gleam of recognition flashed through them.

_"_ Soundwave," he rumbled at last and stood erect and strong with an air of power and ruthlessness as well. His optics glanced around at his followers, and he grinned, pleased. However, when he turned back to the blue-black mech his gaze fell upon the redheaded human whom still winced with agony, and he roared as he lunged. She was spared death by Soundwave's quick thinking, whom turned so that his other side earned a deep gash instead of a mutilated human.

_"You dare protect the human?!"_ Megatron snarled as the mech bowed his head.

_"Lord Megatron: human retains Allspark's power,"_ he replied, and his commander's optics narrowed. He looked again at Catherine and noticed her body still glowed, and when he scanned her, he did indeed find Allspark energy within her body.

He grinned maliciously, "How ironic—you, whom killed me is the one to revive me."

She could only stare in horror mixed with the pain, her power taking longer to heal her. She meant to speak, but she could only babble incoherent words, and even then Soundwave squeezed her in warning. Megatron merely snorted and turned to gaze at his warriors once more. He looked down at the corpse briefly before turning back at Soundwave.

_"Necessary,"_ he replied at once, and then added, _"Objective: Fallen awaits, Lord Megatron."_

The Decepticon leader's optics flashed with recognition, _"Does the_ Nemesis _remain where it landed?"_

_"Affirmative. Human accompanying: required."_

_"Yes... My Master will want to see this new 'Allspark',"_ Megatron rumbled, peering at Catherine, whom pressed away, and he chuckled. _"But their lifespan is so short, the bugs. She will not survive the journey."_

_"Solution: Space Bridge activated. Human survival: capable. Suitable transport: required. Available via modifications. .5 breems required."_

_"Then make it so. Decepticons!"_ he growled, turning to his soldiers, whom perked at once. _"We rise again!"_

A roar came up from the mechs, and Megatron gave them the order to standby until they were ready for departure. He then turned back to Soundwave, whom had already begun the procedures to alter his form in order to carry Catherine within him for the journey. He had acquired the Doctor's help as well, who now scurried across his frame to alter parts here and there. However, the silent mech was more than capable of sparing his leader his attention at the same time.

_"I have been gone too long, Soundwave. What has happened in my absence?"_

Without delay, the mech began.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

In any other situation, Catherine knew she would have been ecstatic to have been taken into space, seeing the millions and billions of stars, of which countless planets could have been orbiting. It had always been one of her dreams to one day venture into space and even other worlds regardless of how silly that hope was considering the technology needed was beyond her life time. However, in her current situation she was a prisoner of the Deceptions, strapped tightly within the metallic body of one of Megatron's most loyal lackeys. The only thing keeping her safe from the abysmal vacuum was her captor's shell, and the only thing actually keeping her alive was the fact he had altered his form to a pressure that her body could withstand and to filter oxygen for her. It had also protected her from the shaking she had seen the other Decepticons endure when they passed through the strange, alien circle and appeared on the other side, some place far away—a wormhole, she guessed.

And so, when she should have been happy and excited, she was instead scared out of her mind and worried.

What was worse—she could still feel the memories in her head. It was like they were a part of her now, and she feared that truly was the case. It was Megatron she felt the most, and every so often she could feel his present emotions seeping into her. She wanted nothing more than to claw and pry them out of her, but even if she were not restrained she knew she could not do so. She did not know if he could feel her in return, but she desperately hoped he could not. She wanted nothing to do with that monster; it was bad enough she had revived him— the greatest enemy the Autobots ever had. He was back, and he had _her_ and her powers. 

Catherine felt her captor's body shudder as he slowed, and he angled in such a way that she could see through his chest. Despite her fear, she gasped a little; a planet, far larger than the earth and carrying many rings like Saturn. In the distance was a reddish nebula and countless more stars, and she knew without a doubt she was far, far from home.

They angled more towards one of the planet's moons, and there she saw a ship unlike any she'd ever seen on Earth towards which they flew. It was made from spiked plates, and out of its rear longer thin ones extended. It looked like a ship made for battle and cleaving its enemies in two—a perfect match for its vile owners. It also looked as though it had crash landed, if the line of ruined earth leading up to it was any clue. She was not able to see anymore as they entered through the rear, though, and instead watched as they passed under grotesque and mutilated looking structures. Even stranger were the pod-like sacs hanging among the walls with spherical centers that glowed with a deep, translucent, and aqueous blue color. She could not make out what was in them, though, as Soundwave moved too fast.

They finally came to a stop and her heart raced as the metal frame around her shifted, her captor returning to his bipedal form. She didn't know how he managed to not crush any part of her, but intact she remained as he touched down. Her view became darkened, though she could still hear them speaking in their native tongue.

_"Starscream, I return,"_ Megatron rumbled once he'd landed, and from the corridor the gangly Decepticon approached, much like a dog groveling before its master.

_"Lord Megatron!"_ he cried out, bowing low before the larger 'Con. _"I was so relieved to hear of your resurrection!"_

His leader was not amused as he tilted the mech's head up with a single claw, _"You left me to die on that pathetic insect planet."_

_"Only to help spawn our new army!"_ Starscream quickly sputtered, gesturing at the Energon sacs around them. _"The Fallen decrees it! After all, in your absence someone had to take command."_

A growl rippled through Megatron's throat, and without a word, he rammed his leg up into the Seeker's face. He flew up and back, only to have a clawed hand latch onto his throat, digging in as he was pushed back into a throng of sacs. The Decepticon leader's optics showed no remorse as he tightened his grip, and also no care for the sacs as the Seeker's armor plates cut through the thin film holding the Energon in.

_"So disappointing,"_ he hummed, and Starscream began to panic a little.

_"Hatchling! Hatchlings! Careful— fragile!"_ he rasped just as the small creature within the ripped sac slipped out, still not fully formed. It landed with a thud and began to cry out, mewling like a young newborn babe.

_"Even in death, there is no command but mine,"_ Megatron hissed, optics flashing dangerously. Starscream nodded at once, and his leader finally released him. He fell, rubbing at his throat where a few wires had been clipped, but nothing serious. When the Decepticon leader finally turned away, the Seeker gave his back a glare, but then glanced over at the others who had come as well. It was only a few other flyers that had gone—the rest remaining on Earth due to their lack of aerial form and to keep things prepared. He met Soundwave's optics with contempt, and the mech stared back with no hint of his thoughts, although the Seeker knew full well there was a warning within them. While he could easily match Soundwave for power, the mech was a loyal lackey to Megatron, whom he knew he could not defeat. So with a growl, he picked himself and the hatchlings up, and watched as their leader walked on towards their Master. While Soundwave followed, the others remained behind, knowing full well they were not worthy to be in the Fallen's presence.

Catherine could only imagine what had happened outside of her captor's shell, and every movement only made her fear grow worse. It didn't help that she had begun to hear moving parts within the body of the mech that weren't from him alone. She thought she had heard a growl or perhaps a clicking, but regardless she instinctively knew she was not alone and that something or possible many things watched her, eager to rip her to shreds, but there was nothing she could do. So she remained silent, wishing this was all just a dream and that it would stop and she would wake up and find Sideswipe and Jazz or Lennox and her team waiting for her to have a fun day. She wanted to wake up and find Steeljaw sleeping in her room, still alive and intact, and on him would be her drones, playing and romping about. But this was not a dream. This was real, and it was happening.

Her fear suddenly sky rocketed, and she did not even know why. It wasn't because of the sense of being watched before or that she was light years from home and in the hands on the enemy. No—this was a very different fear. One that _she_ did not know, but a part of her—the _Allspark—_ did. It was a fear that both beckoned her to go forth and urged her to flee, and that made it all the more worse, for what could cause such a thing? She sorely wished to not know, but she could not make her captor stop moving, and he had no intentions of doing so until what felt like eons later.

Soundwave stopped a good, respectful distance away from Megatron, who passed by a throne where a prone, ancient mech lay strapped to it, wires feeding into his frame. The Decepticon leader came to the edge of the room which overlooked a large chasm of the ship, and he lowered to a knee, gazing out upon it.

_"I have returned at last, my Master, though I may have failed you,"_ he rumbled. _"The Allspark was seemingly destroyed, but has since been found within the body of an insect. Our race may yet live."_

The prone mech's optics flashed open, _"Show me."_

Megatron rose, _"The creature cannot survive without a proper environment, my Master. Soundwave!"_

The silent mech finally came forth and created a hologram of data for the ancient mech to gaze upon. With a nod, Soundwave retracted it, and from the mech a pulse emitted. It glowed pale blue—almost white—and created a dome which encompassed the entire room and an area many times larger than it. He then nodded at the blue-black mech, whom opened his chest at once, revealing the redheaded young woman within. His bindings finally released her, and he took her into his hands once more.

Catherine's eyes widened, though not just because she was able to breathe. She had once thought Megatron was enormous, but this new, black-colored mech would tower over him. He was also completely unlike any Cybertronian she had seen. It was like he carried no armor save for upon his head, which had an uncanny resemblance to that of a pharaoh of Egypt. His arms and legs were thin and long and weathered, making him seem more like a skeleton than anything else, but she knew he was not to be trifled with. His body glowed as well; as if blood made of fire flowed within him. There was an air about him—one that, had she been born in a much earlier time, would have thought belonged to a god. And surely, he appeared so upon his throne, despite the wires which filled him with Energon. Strangest of all was the odd notion that she _knew_ this mech, and she could swear he knew her too in the way his optics—the deepest shade of red she had ever seen—gazed at her; like finally seeing someone you were once close to again after a very long time.

Soundwave placed her into the mech's hands, which wrapped around her gently, but firmly, and brought her close.

_"You have not failed me, though you have much to learn, my disciple,"_ the mech mused, turning her this way and that. _"The Cube was merely a vessel. Its power, its knowledge, can never be destroyed—it can only transform, as it has into this creature."_

_"How is that possible?"_ Megatron inquired, regarding the human with disgust.

_"One day you will know,"_ he hummed, turning her back to face him, eye to optic. He paused, though, frowning, and brought her so close he was reflected in her eyes. _"She is incomplete."_

_"Impossible,"_ Soundwave replied first. _"Megatron: revived. Allspark powers: intact."_

_"The power of life, yes! But the knowledge is gone. It is not within her. No—the_ boy! _The knowledge has been absorbed by the male, human child. Without it, we cannot revive our race—only make shells of no use to us."_

Megatron's optics gleamed, _"Well then, let me strip the very flesh form his body and I will bring you it myself!"_

_"And you will, my apprentice, in time. However, he must remain alive to transfer the knowledge,"_ he spoke sternly, and his student bowed his head with acknowledgement. The Fallen then settled back further into his chair, lowering his arm holding Catherine to the arm rest. _"For millennia, I have dream of my return to that_ wretched _planet where I, too, was once betrayed by the Primes I called my brothers. Only a Prime can defeat me, and now, only one remains."_

_"Optimus!"_ Megatron growled, clenching his claws into a fist. _"He protects the boy!"_

_"Then the boy will lead us to him, and revenge will be ours!"_ the mech rasped, clenching his free fist as well. Just as his apprentice agreed, Starscream landed beside them, the dead hatchling in his hands. Catherine looked upon it, her powers pulling her towards it, but her fear and her cage of fingers keeping her where she was.

_"The boy will not escape us. We have him in our sights,"_ the Seeker explained. _"However, it will take time for the other Seekers to regain their space bridge capabilities. We cannot spare any more Energon, else we risk losing more of the hatchlings."_

To make his point, he dropped the dead thing unceremoniously onto the floor, where Energon splattered from its still frame. The Fallen regarded it without care, as did the others.

_"A few hatchlings will not matter—we must leave now,"_ Megatron growled, but stopped in his tracks when his master raised his free hand.

_"Patience, my apprentice. Our victory is eminent with the Allspark's power in our hands. Allow yourself to prepare and steel your mind for the coming battle. We must not let haste create errors."_

The Decepticon leader bowed his head, _"Yes, my Master. Starscream, awaken the others in stasis, and whatever Energon can be spared is to be given to the other Seekers. We leave as soon as they are ready."_

_"Of course, Lord Megatron,"_ the second-in-command rumbled, though with obvious displeasure, and took off once more. Megatron then turned to Soundwave.

_"Contact our forces on Earth. Tell to them to be ready for our return, and tell the Pretender to remain close to the boy. We will need them to lure him away from his protectors."_

_"Acknowledged,"_ Soundwave replied, turned, and left.

_"It is good you have returned,"_ The Fallen rumbled once the silent mech was gone, and Megatron paused in his attempt to leave as well. He turned, head bowing slightly.

_"I will not fail you again, my Master."_

_"I know. Soon, you shall have what is rightfully yours."_

A pleased growl came from the Decepticon's throat and he continued on, leaving Catherine and the Fallen alone.

Her heart still pounded—a thundering drum in her chest and head, and it only grew louder when he brought her close to his face again. His optics once more looked into hers, and, this time, she could _feel_ it. She could feel him pervading through her mind, seeing her thoughts and feelings and memories. She could not stop the violation, and he had opened to her, too. She could feel his thoughts flooding in—his memories and knowledge and desires. It was as if she were reviving Megatron all over again, only this time there was only one mech overtaking her thoughts and also something else—something that terrified her even more than becoming that murderous fiend or the silence; it felt _familiar_. She felt she had done this before and that it was meant to be—that they were meant to share their thoughts.

Tears fell down her cheek, though she could not remember them forming, and suddenly she was herself again. Still, she could feel the traces; could feel his presence lingering inside her like a poison—like a disease with no cure. It was spreading, too, and she feared what would come of it. The being—no, the _Fallen_ , she now knew—merely smiled at her, pleased with his work. And then she heard it in her mind as clear as day.

_At last you are mine_.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

On Earth, in a cemetery just off the road and high enough above the street below to conceal a towering robot, a yellow and black-striped Camaro appeared. It pulled up close to a place far in the back, clearly out of sight and shielded by a thick brush of trees. There it sat while a young, dark-haired man stepped out. He looked to his left and there he found the regal form of Optimus Prime standing, gazing out onto the rising sun. The young man sighed as he closed the door and walked over, stepping up onto the grass-covered platform.

"You won't give me a week, huh? You won't give me one week in college?" he called out, obviously annoyed and frustrated.

Optimus turned, his optics apologetic and weary, "I'm sorry, Sam, and I fear I only have grave words to bring."

The young man stopped dead in his tracks, ice starting to trickle into his veins, "W-what do you mean? Optimus, what's going on?"

"Sam... the last fragment of the Allspark was stolen only days ago."

"Like what? Like Decepticon stole it? Isn't that okay, though? It's powerless, right?" he continued on with his questions, his worries growing with every second.

"Yes, it is powerless. They found that out for themselves, and they returned to find the true remaining source," the Autobot commander replied, and, paused to look directly into Sam's eyes, which had gone wide and his mouth hung open as he tried to piece everything together. "Sam... they have taken Catherine."

Sam's mouth closed, and his fingers clenched and released a few times before he turned, running a hand through his hair. Curses filtered through clenched teeth and soon turned into a repeated string of "no" that became louder and louder. Optimus watched with sorrow as the young man began to pace back and forth, kicking at the ground, the string of repeated words still getting louder and louder and until he finally spun back to the Autobot, eyes seething with rage.

"How could you let that happen?! She trusted you! You were supposed to keep her safe and now she's—she's in Decepticon hands! She might even be dead! Oh God, she could be _dead_! Why didn't you stop them!" he screamed, jabbing a finger at the mech, whom could only sigh and gaze back with sincere sorrow.

"They created a diversion for the main force. Sideswipe and Jazz were protecting her from Soundwave when Barricade betrayed them and took her," he explained, but it hardly cooled the young man who began to pace again.

"So what—you haven't done anything?! You've just left her to them?!"

"We have _tried_ Sam. We cannot find her, but we will not stop until we do."

He screamed, "That's not good enough!"

Optimus remained quiet as the boy turned to the grave monument next to him and used his hands to brace against it. He rammed the side of his fist onto it a few times, cursing softly once more. Regaining some composure, he turned back to the Autobot commander with a glare.

"Is this what you came for? Just to tell me this? That Catherine's gone?" he barked.

"No, Sam. I have also come for your help," he replied.

The young man frowned, "My 'help'? What the hell do you need _me_ for?"

"Your leaders believe we brought vengeance upon your planet," Optimus spoke with a deep sigh. "Perhaps they are right. That is why they must be reminded by another human of the trust we share. If we—"

"So I'm just Catherine's replacement? Is that what this is? As soon as she's gone you just replace her?!" he snarled, anger burning in his eyes. "Did she mean so little to you?!"

" _Sam_ ," he spoke, with a sternness he had never used with the young man, and Sam became silent. "While she is indeed more dear to you than any of us, I do care for Catherine, and we are doing all we can to find and rescue her, but your leaders are pressing upon us; we are not able to mount the force we need, which is why we need _your_ help. We need you to convince them that they can trust us."

Sam became quiet, his mind working and cooling down from his early fluster. He looked up into Optimus' optics, and found sincerity there, which helped. He wanted to find Catherine. He wanted to help them find her, but the sudden realization that there wasn't really anything he could do dawned upon him. With a frustrated growl he grabbed at his head and walked in a short circle.

"Optimus I...I'm not some alien ambassador or peace keeper. I'm not _Catherine_. I... I can't...Even if I could help, and I do want to, but those people—they're not going to listen to somebody like me. They'd listen to you or Lennox or whoever else you have. They'd listen to... They'd listen to Catherine. God, I want to help get her back, but I'm not—I'm not like all the heroes and soldiers at NEST. I'm just... I'm sorry..."

"Sam, fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing," the Autobot Commander rumbled, understanding the boy's plight and turmoil.

He looked down and away, ashamed, "You don't need me. You're _Optimus Prime_."

"Catherine needs you," the mech replied, and the young man flinched.

"No—she needs _you_ and the Autobots. I can't save her, Prime. I'm just a normal kid with normal problems. I can't save her or anybody. She doesn't need me. You don't need me, either."

Sam left then, his mind still feuding over staying and agreeing to the Autobot Commander's proposal, and understanding the reality of the situation; that he was just a normal kid; that he couldn't do anything. Life didn't work that way. Maybe it did for a short time when you were given an alien artifact of immense power, but that wasn't his life anymore. He was living normally like he wanted. That other life was the one Catherine chose and was leading. That was her life, not his, and now she was suffering for it. He wanted desperately to help, but what could he do? He wasn't anybody special. He was just Sam.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, though not to Optimus or Bumblebee, who watched his charge sadly. Optimus watched them go, silently asking the young Autobot to watch over Sam closely, fearing for their human friend. With a sigh, he turned back to the sunrise, which seemed so dark and red this morning.

"We need you more than you know, Sam. We all do."

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**_TMWolf:_ ** _BWAHAHAHAHAHA. YES. CATHERINE IS ON THE NEMESIS. That's right. She went through a Space Bridge to Charr and is now in the possession of the FALLEN! This cannot end well, and it won't. Also, the Fallen, being Prime, has magical powers that normal Cybertronians don't, and therefore he has made a "bubble" of oxygen for Catherine to breathe, which is why she has not succumbed to asphyxiation yet. If you're worried about food/nourishment... just you wait. Too bad the governments are giving NEST a hard time :/ It makes it impossible to even just so SEARCHING for Catherine, not that they'd find her, but STILL._

_And then we have Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam. Poor guy just doesn't have the confidence. His best friend is in Decepticon hands and he knows the higher ups won't listen to him, and it just sucks :/ Poor Prime, too... He's SOL... as are pretty much all the good guys. Oh, and some theory confirmation: YES. SAM DOES HAVE PART OF THE ALLSPARK WITHIN HIM._

_Because they both held the Allspark when shoving it into Megatron, they both gained part of its power- Catherine got the life-giving part, and Sam got the knowledge. His took a lot longer to activate, though, and lay dormant until he found a shard, which retained a tiny bit of Allspark and served as a "catalyst" for his knowledge to awaken ;) And, as you guys noticed, Catherine "felt" this in the same chapter the shard was stolen and Steeljaw died. So. That's been confirmed. Now, here's the REAL challenge for you guys: WHY was the power split? Why didn't Catherine get ALL the power? Why only life? And why did Sam get only the knowledge? Is there even a real reason? Could it just be a coincidence? You tell me :) And then you'll all find the answers at the end of the story~ I promise~!_

_Now prepare yourselves for what I like to call... the INSANITY chapter :D_


	46. Mad World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DREAMS ARE IN PRESENT TENSE/Left Align
> 
> NORMAL TIME IS IN PAST TENSE
> 
> Song is Gary Jules- Mad World (the ending song to Donnie Darko)

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_First there is only darkness, but then— a light so bright she cannot see. She can feel, though, and she feels as she never has before. The outside world, which had once been forever out of reach, she now grasps within her hands. She has a form and shape within which is a mind to think thoughts, and a flow of life which burns red within her. She is not alone. Around her, others of similar make emerge, and they too gaze upon her with both recognition and curiosity. How strange are these creatures that feel as though they are brothers!_

_Then—a voice._

_She turns with her fellow creatures and there, gargantuan and enclosed by a circle of claws that seem to reach forth from the ground to grasp it, is a Cube. On its surface, ancient words and symbols she knows and understands, but within she feels a power that beckons her forth; reaches out to the beating pulse inside her. She answers at once, and approaches with her brothers._

_The Cube sparks and the same light from before arches out towards each of them, encompassing them again. The voice is loud and clear now, though its words are an image instead of sound. There, she sees it; a barren landscape of a barren world, fresh from the womb and yearning for nourishment to grow and create life of its own. What life it wishes for is beyond her, but she knows what has to be done; only the Cube—the Allspark—can give the energy the planet needs, but it needs energy in kind. In that her and her brothers’ part comes. They are to go forth into the chasm beyond the planet—far beyond their world to the glowing orbs of light. From there they will find what they need. From there they can power the Cube and turn the barren landscape fertile._

_The light releases them, and her body pulses with a great power; it fills and strengthens her in a way she can scarcely understand and yet she does. Her gaze lifts to the blackness far above, out to the countless dots that flood the chasm. Her duty set, she summons forth the power, and from the ground a triangular shape forms. On its surface, a pointed face she carves in resemblance of her own. It begins to glow blue, not unlike the light that gave her form. Around her, her brothers do the same, and, with but a simple thought, the triangle—a sarcophagus, she dubs it—encases her in an orb of blue, pulsing light._

_When it fades, the barren planet is gone, and in its place is one that is also barren, but its surface is not made of dirt and metal, but rather a hard, blackened material surrounded by pools of red that remind her of the life that flows beneath her shell. She turns her gaze to the sky, but instead of the abyss she finds a sphere of burning energy and power, whose size dwarfs the Cube and her own self. She does not fear it or its smoldering heat, however, and summoning the power again, she lifts her hands toward the sphere. Not a moment later, she feels its energy fill her, and she knows that soon...soon her planet will be rich with life._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine’s eyes opened slowly. The image of the sun faded, and in its place was her hand, which she clenched slowly. She breathed in and out deeply, listening to the slow beat of her heart. She was human again.

She pulled her arms and legs close, burying her head into them. For days—or was it weeks? Months? _Years_? She couldn’t remember anymore. It could have been vorns—no, that was wrong. She meant millennia. She whimpered, grasping at her head. She could barely tell what or where or when anything was anymore. She wasn’t even sure she was on the Decepticon ship. Yes, she could feel the hard surface of the floor and occasionally the thrumming of the Energon which pulsed into the throne next to her, but she couldn’t be sure it was _real_.

The memories came to her almost all the time. Even when she was awake they sometimes came, but they were the worst when she slept. It was all she saw in her dreams. Were they even dreams? They felt so real; she could swear she was that other person. She could swear she was born on that barren planet, sent forth by the Cube to distant worlds to gather energy to fuel it. But then she would wake up on the floor of this ship where only the blue force field kept her from suffocating. Surely that meant this was reality... but then why was it so hard to believe?

The ground shook and she lifted her head the same moment the blue-black robot came into the room as he always did. There. That. While he was the vile thing that had brought her here, he was also what reminded her of what was real. He made her think of the home and friends and family she had been taken from when he came, and she knew the dreams were not real.

He didn’t even spare her a glance as he walked by, making his way to a series of panels behind the throne. There his clawed fingers flew across the flat keys and the wires above the Fallen thrummed louder, allowing blue, liquefied Energon to pour down. Its recipient awakened, optics flaring to life, and his body lit up with a red glow. A rumble of sounds came from his throat, and, as had become custom, the silent Decepticon finally paid heed to her presence. He picked her up carefully and deposited her into the black-armored one’s hand.

She felt a small shock go through her body, but she scarcely moved. The process was now a normal thing; Energon filled her, and any hunger and fatigue she might have had vanished as the mech—the Fallen, she remembered—shared his Energon with her. She had once questioned how it was possible, but no longer cared. Whatever the mech did was keeping her alive, and truthfully, there was nothing she could do about it. She was at their mercy.

As usual, the process was done in but a few moments, and while some days he simply set her back down, he sometimes brought her closer to his face as he did today.

 _Soon you will be complete,_ his voice rumbled into her mind. However, it was not to _her_ he spoke, but the Allspark power within her. She had learned that quickly enough and could not help but feel irked by the thought he considered the Cube was a sentient being like her. But it was, wasn’t it? In a way, at least. But certainly not like _her_.

_Once we have the boy’s knowledge, we can finally free you from this useless flesh, and then our race will begin anew._

Her eyes widened briefly, and then she felt his being enter into her again. She felt his thoughts and desires and memories overtaking hers. She tried to resist as she always did, but the Allspark’s powers would overrule her own wants and reach back, tightening the bond. She felt herself begin to fade. Fear spiked, and her powers’ control ebbed a little. Though it was but a small gain, it was enough, and the Fallen pulled away, returning her to the floor once more.

She picked herself up slowly, wrapping her arms tightly around her body, clenching at the dirtied shirt. She could still feel her mind fighting for dominance even as she walked away, but with each step The Fallen’s influence grew weaker. She continued on until she reached far enough away that his thoughts were but a whisper. There she let herself collapse down, curling tight into a ball. She held back the tears that always wanted to come; held back the shivers her body wished to make. She thought of home then; thought of her friends, her family, her team, and her lost children. She thought of them all and wished she could wake up and find them there. But this was not a dream.

She had to wake up, though.

She had to get away from here.

She was going to die if she didn’t.

She had to get out, but there was no escape.

She was stuck, and she was afraid, and she just wanted to wake up.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_She lands with a rough thud upon the planet, its surface flush with life both moving and still. She turns her gaze this way and that, examining the odd-shaped green-colored life which extends from the tall, brown, rugged poles. The things are everywhere, and more green things cover the floor of the landscape, though the ground directly beneath her is dirty and hard—not unlike how her home had once been. Her home is nothing like this planet now, though. It has been countless vorns since her journey began and her planet is pulsing with life; the Allspark has created a layered world of beauty and wonder where beings like her, but nowhere near her regality—her power—reside. They are mostly a worker race, meant to keep the planet intact, or, like the large group that has accompanied her, to help find fuel for the Cube._

_She barks at the workers to begin construction on the Solar Harvester. There is no time to be lost. The journey has been long, but the sun here is ripe and filled with Energon waiting to be brought home. She can care less if it is inhabited or not by any form of life. There is none that compares to her race. To any others they should be Gods, as is only right by their power, and especially so her—the Allspark’s chosen one. She was only assured more during her visit to the other planet and its inhabitants—oh how they had groveled before her! Praised her! Worshiped her! It is almost a shame she had taken their sun; siphoned its Energon for the Cube and her own race. But of what use were those small, disgusting organics? They could do nothing worthy of her notice._

_A call; she turns and finds one of the workers gesturing to something in the distance. She peers and discovers organics—vastly different from the ones before. However, they do bare some semblance to her kind. They walk upon two legs and use two arms for carrying their wares. They bare two eyes and a face upon which their hidden thoughts can be seen. She can only sneer at their pretentiousness. To think they would dare to take after her kind and be made of such pathetic, pink flesh and use such weak weapons!_

_She brings forth her staff and approaches the creatures, which stop to gaze with dumbfounded awe upon her approach. She merely spits at them as she lands and strikes the nearest. The body crumples and breaks, red fluid bursting forth and staining the ground black. The others shriek a strange, organic sound, and then either flee or dare throw their puny sticks with pointed edges at her. Of course, they bounce off harmlessly and she pierces the next organic. Her weapon shoots clean through and she flings the creature away where it plops once then twice before becoming still. She turns her optics onto the others, which run at such pathetic, slow paces._

_She sneers once more and leaps after, only to stop short as eleven sarcophagi appear before her. She snarls, but stays where she stands as eleven shapes bearing great resemblance to her come forth from the sarcophagi, their faces and optics stern and unforgiving. The largest speaks with anger, demanding to know why she breaks their laws. She chuckles and barks back with contempt at the law, noting its waste of good Energon. More angered words are traded, condemning her for tainting their Prime lineage and the Cube. She merely regards them with annoyance, flippantly waving off their claims—she is the Chosen One after all— and aims to return to her workers, but then the others summon their weapons. Her optics narrow._

_An ultimatum. Cease her taint or die. She growls at their arrogance. She is the Chosen one! They know not her true power! She raises her spear, and they surround her. From their mouths they chant—Evil; Murderer; Destroyer; Defiler; Tainted; Repugnant; Dark One; Tainted One; Vile One; Depraved One; Betrayer; Fallen!_

_She hisses and strikes the nearest, but is parried by a blade. They descend upon her, but she teleports away before they can skewer her. She appears before her worker force and rallies them with a cry. Her traitorous brothers appear and she sends her army to attack. They heed her command and charge, though the traitors make quick work of them. She joins soon enough, and the land is quickly flooded with their blood and still forms._

_The blue sky begins to darken, but still the battle rages. She has struck down many of the traitors—so very few remain. Most of her workers are dead, and the others dwindle on death’s door. She faces the last four of her former brothers; they call her the Fallen; a traitor—the irony! She curses them and trades blows. She parries their shields and blades and staffs, striking with her own and drawing Energon and severing limbs. Two more fall to her power, and she boasts with delight. Only two remain, and she strikes at the weaker—already wounded from the battle. His resistance wavers and he soon falls, leaving only one more traitor. They circle one another, preparing for the final blows._

_But then—the traitor vanishes! Teleports! She screams a feral cry and races after, following the traces of his teleport. She reappears and sees him for a moment, but then he vanishes again. She scowls and follows after, wondering at his game. Why does he stall when he knows death is inevitable? Why not let it come instead of fleeing as a coward? Truly he does not deserve the title of Prime! He is no brother of hers! He is not even worthy of being a traitor!_

_He appears and vanishes again and again, their game traversing countless words and galaxies. Again and again he flees her, and her anger seethes. She wishes to end this triviality, but he continues to flee! She grows tired of it, and so ready her staff for a blow. Next she sees him she will strike and end it. She feels her teleportation ending and so begins her throw._

_She emerges and is blinded by a light. Instinctively she understands and screams, even as her vision clears and she sees her traitorous kin standing not alone, but with eight others—eight have risen from the dead! She snarls and hisses and throws her weapon, but it bounces off in their combined energy, and she begins to feel fear. It is a strange sensation, and she does not like it. She knows not how they are alive, but she knows they aim for her, and she attempts to flee, but the light holds her where she stands. She screams and roars and curses and spits, but she cannot be free and her traitorous brothers raise their weapons and pierce her. Pain runs rampant and she howls in agony because of it, but they do not stop there._

_She howls louder as her sarcophagus appears before her and her thoughts flood with fear. She is too weak to break free—her teleportation has drained her. She understand now what the traitor had intended and curses him even as she feels herself pulled into the triangular structure; feels her body disintegrate bit by bit into Energon. She curses them even as the last of her fades, and she feels she is nothing more than a thought. Yet, soon even her thought begins to fade, and she swears vengeance upon her traitorous brothers and the planet. One day she will rise again and vengeance will be hers!_

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine stared down over the edge of the platform of where the Fallen’s chair was situated. The silent mech had come and gone on his daily routine and she had been “fed”. Things had changed a little—they had a surprise visit from Megatron whom had said something she could not understand. Then he looked at her with a gleeful smirk—as if knowing something terrible was coming for her and she didn’t—and then left them. The Fallen had set her down as usual, but she did not feel like lying down or sleeping again. The dreams were becoming too real. The pain had been immense in that memory; she had actually thought she was going to die. In truth, she thought she had when she had been sealed away. She hadn’t even realized it was another dream until she woke up.

She sighed as her mind returned to normal, and again she noticed the drop below. She could not guess its distance, but it was far and deep, and at the bottom were lines of black wires, lit with the same blue glow that was littered throughout the ship. She had not gone through the entire place—her “dome” of safety was only so large and she wasn’t “allowed” to leave the sight of the Fallen—but she did not need to in order to know they were everywhere. Layered along the edge of the bottom were more of the sacs she had seen upon arriving here, however long ago that was. She had come to realize there were baby Cybertronian in them—hatchlings. It had been instinct that had told her more than anything else. There were some nearby she could actually touch, and her powers confirmed her suspicions.

She shuddered at the thought of what they were to become. Killing machines, the lot of them. An armada of Decepticons to beset helpless worlds and helpless Autobots right at their fingertips, waiting to be given life by the Allspark. Certainly there were enough to even rule the universe. She couldn’t let that happen. But what could she do? She was barely even in control of her own mind, and her powers no longer listened. They were _his_ —she glanced over at his recharging form—and both she and the Allspark knew it. Oh, yes, sometimes there was the smallest flicker of illusion of power, but it was still not hers. At the very least, though, she did still retain control of her body. The Allspark did not move it for her; it had not brought her to the edge here to gaze down upon the drop.

Still, she could not let their plans come to pass. Surely there was a way to stop it. Of course, there was no hope for Autobot rescue, but perchance by her own power? She laughed a little, recalling she no longer controlled it. She forgot things so easily now.

She sighed, looking down again. She stared long and hard at the floor below, and slowly, but surely, she could swear she felt it reaching towards her. She could swear it was coming closer and closer, lulling her into a respite she so greatly needed. A part of her wished to resist, but the desperation was too great and she reached for the chasm and felt herself falling closer and closer, spiraling down towards the dark metal and lights and then—

Catherine gasped and looked around to find she was still at the edge. She had not fallen off. She had not hit the ground. She had not died. She was still standing there. She frowned, contemplating the death now, and told herself to do it. It was a way out. She could wake up from this nightmare and the Fallen and his Decepticons would not get what they wanted. However, as the seconds ticked by she realized she could not. With a curse she dropped to the ground, pulling her knees close. In the end, she could not do it, and knew she never could. She didn’t know if it was something so foolish as hope or her own stupidity that kept her from it, but she could not take the plunge.

Now even her own self was against her. She was stuck here with no wait out. Not even death.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_Thought. It returns to her. She is able to think. She is able to sense. She is able to comprehend. She is alive. She lives! She feels—she feels a presence. It is a familiar presence. She knows it. Remembers it. It is of her kind! But is not a brother. No—it is not a traitor. It is a worker, though it is different. Very different. Still, it is a worker and this is good. The worker is wounded, she senses. Her powers are returning, though, and she reaches out to the worker. He feels her presence and is disturbed, but then she sends her power into him and heals the wounds. He relaxes, understanding she is safe. He welcomes her, and she pulls upon his knowledge of the world. Much time has gone by, she realizes, and that the traitors are long since gone. She revels in this and plans; vengeance seeps through strongly._

_She reaches out again to the worker, speaks to him through his mind. She lulls him with grandeur and deceit and lies; makes herself a god to him—but why should she not be? Her powers are weak now, but they will grow strong with the worker’s help and then she will be renewed and vengeance hers!_

_She molds his mind, turning him into her warrior; her herald. She gives him the power he needs, and when he rids the planet of its alien threats she nurtures him. She poisons his thoughts, urges him to do as she once did and take the Allspark and the planet for himself—to make way for her return._

_However, she learns of a descendent of the traitors and plans. The lineage of her demise cannot live if she is to rule without opposition. She knows of the worker’s relations to the descendent and grasps it, warping it into something vile. She sends him against the descendant, and the worker falls into darkness—fully into her grasp. But it cannot end there; no, she nourishes the dark seed within him. She bids him to seek out the Matrix—the key to the Solar Harvester—while she recuperates. He agrees, and a ship begins to be built._

_The planet is ravaged as she waits, war killing it as she had killed the traitors. She worries not. When the Harvester is hers, the planet will be renewed again. Her disciple is strong and continues her conquest. The descendant is strong, too, though, and she broods upon his existence often. Every day his sparks continues to beat, her annoyance grows, but she is patient with her disciple. He is a worshiper and a valuable tool. She will not lose him yet._

_When the ship is built she is pleased. She may now leave to return to the planet she was robbed of. Her disciple wishes to join her, though, and she fumes at his foolishness. Who would keep the descendant at bay should her disciple come? She berates and punishes him, and he becomes humble, asking for forgiveness. She grants it, and seeing benefit, gives more. She explains her origins, speaking of her traitorous brothers, and then commands him to stay while she leaves. He wishes to argue, but she tells him he must stay to fight the descendent and guard the Allspark. Her disciple agrees, and she goes upon the ship. Many of her disciple’s warriors accompany her, including the silent, but loyal one. She is pleased, and leaves her disciple and the planet; content victory will soon be hers._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

She had to get out of here.

She didn’t care how—she had to get out.

She paced the around the edge of the area, her mind buzzing with thoughts that were partly her own and partly not. She could still manage to tell what were her own, but she had begun to feel the memories when awake more often. She sometimes even saw the images. She sometimes felt her body was made of metal. She sometimes thought her heart was a spark. She sometimes thought she was the Fallen, sitting upon the throne. She wasn’t always sure she was human. She wasn’t always sure she was Catherine.

She had to get out. But how? There was no way out. The Fallen would not let her leave his sight, and the only way out was no doubt guarded by Decepticons, and then what would she even do if she got past them? She could not survive in space. Even if she could she could not get back to Earth. She could not fly. Earth was forever away. She wouldn’t survive the journey. That was only if she could breathe without oxygen, which she obviously couldn’t. She was stuck. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck. There was no way out. She had to get out, though. There had to be a way. Somehow. Someway. But how? How? How? How?

She fell back onto her rear as she clutched at her head, pain starting to filter in. Her fingers began to feel like claws, and her body felt so much bigger than it was. She whimpered and scrunched up tight, trying to remember herself. She thought back to the planet and who were there, but it was hard to remember. It was hard to place faces. She could recall their colors and shapes, but their features and voices were blurred and a mess. She thought she could grasp the names, but they were so far away. She could barely recall her own sometimes. God, she had to get out. She had to. She was going to die here. They were going to get her missing part—from who again?

She thought hard, and gasped—Sam. Yes. Sam. That’s right. He had the Allspark knowledge. Oh God—they were going to kill him to get! Then they were going to kill her and take the Allspark power for themselves! They were going to use it for terrible things! She had to get out more than ever. There just had to be some way, but how? She just had to think. Oh! If only the alien thoughts would leave her be, or were they hers? No, they definitely weren’t hers. She wasn’t Cybertronian… or was she? No. Definitely not. She was Catherine. Yes. Catherine. That was right. She was human. She was the Allspark too, and the Fallen—no, that wasn’t right.

She wanted to scream, but stifled it as she leaned back and bumped into something squishy and which felt oddly like flesh. She pulled away and gazed at the blue orb, realizing it was an Energon sac. Inside she knew was a hatchling—she could feel the small spark beating. She’d forgotten there were some close to the walls here. They were so close and she could feel them so well, but they didn’t have many thoughts or feelings yet. They were too young and their sparks not strong. They still needed the Allspark’s power to become full grown.

And then, for the first time in a long time, her mind stopped.

No thoughts came; no memories; no voices; no images; nothing. Pure blankness. And then—oh then, she knew who she was. She knew exactly who she was and where she wanted to be and who she wanted to be with and who was in danger and whose presence she was in. She also knew a way to leave. A possible way. She knew just how to do it, but then she realized what the way involved and she pushed it away. She couldn’t do _that_. She… She just couldn’t. She was the Allspark—she couldn’t… But… But it was the only way, wasn’t it? Still, it was a terrible thing she had thought of. She couldn’t do it.

She turned away to ensure that point, but soon enough she looked back at the row of five hatchlings in their sacs, and her mind clung to the idea and fed it, flooded it with food so that it swelled and swelled until it was about to burst. Regrets and her conscious were swept aside as the need to flee took over. She had to escape from all this. She knew she could not last much longer if she stayed. Soon her mind would be gone and she truly would be useless flesh. She couldn’t just let the Fallen use her powers as he wished, either. The Autobots needed her to do this—needed her to keep her powers away from them.

She knew what she had to do—but not yet. No, she knew she had to wait a little bit longer. It would be soon, though. Very soon.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_She speaks to the loyal worker. He is the only one awake—the others sleep for the duration of the journey. He speaks of the Allspark; he says they have detected it. She silently seethes, realizing her disciple has failed. She remains calm though and begins to command the worker, but then the ship is struck and shakes. She demands answers, but must wait until the worker safely lands the ship to speak with him. She fumes at the waiting, but it is worth it; the worker discovers a portal left by the ship—one which bears the ancient signature of her traitorous brothers. A space bridge! She sends the worker to follow it at once. He obeys, though revives some of the others to tend to her. She is pleased and waits for his return._

_She is surprised when it is not the worker but her disciple who suddenly appears before her some time later. She rages when she learns he does so by forgoing the Allspark’s trail. She orders he give chase, for the Cube will lead him to the Harvester and her vengeance. She forgives him when he shows immediate obedience, though still seethes and fumes. Her plans have become awry and tangled too many times. Still—her plans will come to fruition. She only needs patience. She has waited long, and haste will only cause error. She knows this and so waits silently, taken care of by the other workers who regard her with awe._

_Though she knows thousands of vorns have passed, it is a shutter of her optic when the silent worker returns. He does so with a prize—a space bridge pillar from a ship belonging to his enemy. She is pleased and informs him of her disciple’s return. Annoyance briefly fills her when the silent worker replies that her disciple was possibly one of the “captured” workers by the insects of the disgusting planet. Her temper cools when she takes hold of the pillar with her powers and feels the Energon of the Primes flowing through it. She is glad for it. Now she can finally escape, and she does so. With a simply tap into the device its powers flow into her, releasing the bindings of her prison and giving her shape once more._

_The workers gaze upon her with fear and awe, and she laughs at their pitiful states. Only the silent one is stalwart, and she is pleased by this. She sees much use for him, and there is much work to be done. And yet, still she is weak. This she understands with much displeasure, and so is resigned to her source of power, though no longer within her sarcophagus prison. The silent worker becomes her tender and fuels her with Energon. When he finishes setting the device she sends him forth—to return to Earth and free her disciple and help him find the Matrix and Harvester. She will not be delayed any longer._

_The worker takes a few others with him this time, and she is left with the rest, whom adhere to her ever word. Soon. Very soon she will have her vengeance._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine watched the Fallen carefully from behind her arms, which rested atop her knees. It had been most likely hours now since Soundwave had appeared and fed both her and the Fallen, and now the ancient mech slept as he always did. She hadn’t even realized she’d noticed it until it finally mattered, but there was a distinct routine to it all. Soundwave would come and give them Energon, Megatron might come, but not today, and then the Fallen would leave her be to go into recharge until the next “feeding”. She had managed to not fall asleep as soon as it was over, and discovered he slept a very long time, though it only became deepest after a few hours. Then his mind was weakest and could not sense when she ventured too far. However, Soundwave or another Decepticon was never far away, so she could not get anywhere regardless.

She glanced around carefully and preened her ears, listening for anything besides the thrumming of Energon through the ship. When she heard nothing, she stood and walked over to the row of five hatchlings. She had been preparing herself for hours now. She had managed to finally find a way to clear her head of the thoughts—at least, temporarily. She suffered a brief set back as her hands suddenly turned into metal claws, but then she blinked and they were flesh and nails again. She shook her head to clear it more and breathed in deeply to steel herself. She knew her coming actions were a terrible thing, but she knew no other way. This was the only path to freedom, and she had to take it.

Bracing herself, she summoned forth the Allspark’s power.

And all hell broke loose.

The Fallen’s thoughts exploded into hers, but they did not mesh. She thought she screamed, but it was hard to tell as her ears became flooded with white noise. Her body’s veins lit up brighter than ever as her body latched onto the sacs of Energon around the five and sucked them dry. The Hatchlings within were disintegrated back into Energon and filtered into her. She could feel their infantile thoughts briefly, but then they were washed away in the screams and shouts of her own and the Fallen’s. The mech knew what she planned—she could feel it all too well, and he was trying to stop her; trying to stop the Allspark. The process had already begun, though, and as she siphoned the Energon from the other sacs, it poured into the five in the row in front of her.

Already she could see them forming, their metal frames expanding and growing too big for the sacs. She could feel shaking in the ground beneath her, but she could not be sure it was not her own powers working. The screams were growing louder, though, and she could feel the Fallen attempting to use his mind to overtake hers, but she would not let it. Instead, she put more power into the process, sucking up the Energon and pouring it into the five as fast as possible. They responded in kind, bursting out from their sacs and growing quickly, armor shifting out and taking the distinct shape of a mech. They shared a similar design, and it was a particular one at that.

She was weakening just as they were finishing their growth, and her mind, too, was beginning to fade. Yet, at the same time, her body felt as though it were on fire. When she was not thinking of completely forming the five, her thoughts ran straight to the pain and how she was sure her body was slowing being scorched from the inside out. Even when she finally dropped her arms and ended the process, her body burned. She turned her palms up and found them red and steaming—as if she had touched a hot surface. She staggered, her vision swaying and getting dark. She could finally hear the shouting now, but it was in that strange electronic-sounding language of theirs. She managed to turn and found the Fallen leaning up, his optics burning hotter than the sun as he pointed a finger at her. Soundwave was beside him, too, and he was even shooting at her, but something—a force field—blocked the blasts.

She fell back then, but a cool, metal hand caught her. It did nothing to quell the heat, though she was not so worried or afraid anymore. She felt comforted by the presence of the hand and its owner, and happily let them set her into a compartment on their chest. There, restrains wrapped around her comfortable and protectively and then there was the thundering echo of an explosion. She could barely focus, though she could feel the metal body around her shifting and changing shape, and then the scenery outside was a blur. Seconds later, it was no more, and she succumbed to darkness.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_“Hey, we got one of them following us,”_ the dark gray-almost black-armored, Cybertronian craft spoke up, his scanners having detected the unknown signature. Beside him, the reddish-brown craft suddenly veered and turned back the way they came, towards the ship they had just escaped from and toward the incoming silver-tanned jet with tattoo-like markings on its body.

 _“What are you doing?!”_ the largest of the five—a light-gray armored Cybertronian craft bearing the prone form of the redheaded human safely in its interior—shouted.

 _“Getting rid of this guy, that’s what! Keep going! I’ll catch up!”_ the reddish-brown craft shouted back and let loose a volley of laser missile, which arched as they honed in on the jet. The enemy craft veered, dodging them, and let off its own rounds, but the reddish-brown craft avoided them with similar ease. It charged the tanned jet, causing it to veer off slightly, but then the enemy gave chase. The Cybertronian craft merely laughed and suddenly transformed in mid-flight to face the jet. It couldn’t transform before the now-mech fired another round of missiles, which struck the jet in the torso. A screech came from the jet, but the reddish-brown-armored mech didn’t wait around to listen, transforming and jettisoning off back to the other four.

 _“Show off!”_ the blue-tinted craft barked, and the reddish-brown one just laughed.

 _“Alright that’s enough! We need to focus on getting back to the place the Creator calls ‘Earth’,”_ the light-gray craft spoke up, and the greenish-armored craft responded first.

 _“I got this. Don’t know how, but I do,”_ they laughed and their body thrummed with energy, which burst out as a ring. The greenish-armored craft passed through at once, emerging in an entirely new galaxy. The others soon followed, the ring closing behind them once they were through, and paused to take in their surroundings.

 _“This doesn’t look right,”_ the blue-tinted craft hummed.

 _“So much for getting it!”_ the reddish-brown craft barked.

The greenish one snorted, _“I still got it. It’s going to take a few more, geez! I’m new at this stuff, y’know!”_

 _“Just_ hurry _!”_ the light-gray growled. _“The Creator needs to get to ‘Earth’ soon.”_

_“I know! I know! Alright, here we go!”_

The greenish-armored one let off another pulse, creating another ring which they passed through. Again it was not right, and so they continue on and on until, at last, they came upon the large, blue planet. Had Catherine been awake she would have been relieved, but instead she lay unconscious within the light-gray jet, her body burning and her mind in darkness. However, there was one single thing that pierced through the darkness. It was only for a moment, though, and then it was lost to her—a word spoken by a silent voice, yet she heard it clear as day.

_Unworthy_

\---------------------------------

**_TMWolf:_ ** _Yay she got out! :D So, for those who wondered- YES she was bonding with the Fallen, but it was NOT a good thing. If you can tell, she was reliving his memories, but felt like they were HERS._

_Oh, and look! FIVE new characters! I imagine they're not that hard to figure out, but go ahead and try and guess who they are ;) They're well known characters if you've ever watched G1 and they DID appear in some part of the live-action movie. I think it was in the game, but nowhere else. ANYWAYS. If you can't figure it out, you'll learn their names soon enough :D Oh, and YES they are TRUE Cybertronians. If you don't know the reason why... well.. you will._

_Oh, and like the series has shown-Seekers can "teleport" be use of Space Bridges. That's exactly what the hole the green-armored Seeker made and they passed through. It makes getting to Earth a LOT easier :) Oh, and curious about what's going on with Catherine? Just wait. You might actually be HAPPY with the results of it~_

_AND NOW WE WAIT. :D_


	47. I Will Be Your Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is lyrics from the song Oh Louise by Korey Dane

\-------------------------------------------------------------

To say that William Lennox was angry was an understatement. He wasn’t throwing tables or punches, but to those who had known him long enough, he was irrefutably _pissed_. His lips were set into a firm frown while his arms were tucked tight into his armpits and his eyebrows were scrunched so close together he was gaining wrinkles by the second. Nobody dared make note about it, though. They didn’t even dare _think_ about _looking_ at him like he was mad. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off at any second.

Of course, most everyone knew that it was for good reason. Some were still out of the “loop”, but it was no longer a secret thing that Catherine Wolf, the recently suspended Autobot liaison, was his "adopted" daughter. It was also no secret that, about three weeks ago, she had been kidnapped by the Decepticons. That reason was also known, but even after attempts to keep under close wraps, it was nearly common knowledge that she was the Autobot’s Allspark. How hadn’t been mentioned, but a few opinions had definitely changed and quite a bit of confusion had been made.

Worst of all, it had created problems for the Autobots, which in turn, created problems for finding Catherine. Unfortunately, neither Lennox nor Optimus Prime were able to keep her being the Allspark a secret—her teammates had demanded answers and weren’t gullible enough to think it was anything less, and especially not when Galloway harassed them for answers about the “rumors” he’d already been hearing. Needless to say, the man had immediately brought up ethical issues and accused the Autobots of unlawful experiments on human beings and questioned the credibility of Catherine herself. Was she even human? Was she even a real citizen? Were the Autobots creating more of these so-called human-Allsparks?

It wasn’t just Galloway asking, either. Many of the concerns came from the President and other government leaders themselves, and, indeed, the Autobots were losing trust everywhere they looked. Lennox’s own credibility was called in to question, even though he told them everything he himself had been told. There had been talk of suspending him, but General Morshower had put a stop to that. Still, NEST was in a heap of trouble—especially the Autobots, which was why Optimus Prime had arranged for a secret trip to the United States to speak with Samuel Witwicky and obtain his aid in convincing the world leader’s that they could be trusted and that there was something far more terrible to worry about. That, unfortunately, had not worked out.

To make matters worse, with Catherine in Decepticon hands, Megatron could be revived and arrive at their doorstep at any moment. They had tried to rally a team to go after the Decepticons, but the governments stood in their way and they could do nothing. They could not afford to have humanity as their enemy when they were trying to protect them. Still, even doing nothing was almost too hard for some of them. Indeed, many had not taken well to the sudden mistrust and “grounding”—some worse than others—but they heeded their Prime’s orders and did all they could to remain on good footing with the humans. Thankfully, it was only difficult for the more suspicious of the humans, while the rest were eventually convinced that the Autobots were still the good guys and Catherine’s predicament was just a strange, unbelievable string of events.

Regardless of anyone’s opinions, however, NEST has officially been put on hold. Neither Autobot nor human operatives were allowed to leave the island. The President was on the verge of completely dissolving the program if Galloway’s haughty comments were hint enough. Morshower was doing his damned hardest to keep things going smoothly, and after about the second week, they managed to convince the United Kingdom to support NEST’s continuation. It was only one country, but it was one of the major contributors, which was a good sign. Unfortunately, the UK alone wasn’t enough to allow the Autobots to go on a search-and-rescue. Catherine was still at the mercy of the Decepticons, which was worse than her being dead. They could only hope that, soon, they could go find her.

That hope was dwindling, though, and Lennox paced the room as he realized it yet again. Morshower had informed him barely ten minutes ago that NEST was still under scrutiny, and the President was nowhere closer to letting them go with Galloway whispering venom into his ears. Every second was a waste of valuable time and it had been three weeks now. Who knew what had happened to his daughter? The Autobots seemed to know, but he never wanted to ask. He couldn’t bring himself to. Of course, that only made his anger swell more—so much so that not even shooting or an exhausting workout could relieve his stress.

With a growl he stalked away from the webcam communication screen and stormed down the stairs. Anyone nearby averted their gaze, not wanting to test his wrath, and he managed to get almost halfway to the hangar’s entrance to the plane’s landing area before Epps suddenly turned, placing himself in his Commander’s path. Lennox regarded his long-time friend with a serious, silent gaze, but stopped walking. Epps returned the stare and kept it until the aggravated man finally sighed, and then the black man nodded.

“You’re not helping anyone—especially Catherine—by fuming around here, ready to bust the living daylights out the first person that touches you, man,” he spoke, and the brown-haired seethed.

“You think I don’t know that?!” he barked, throwing his arms up. “But that—that bastard!”

Epps clasped his shoulder, “I know. We all do.”

“And what? We’re just supposed to sit here and let them get away with it? Catherine’s out there!”

“Then what’re we gunna do about it, man?” the black man replied, and Lennox was about to shout about how much of an ass he was being, but then he caught Epps look and he paused.

A small grin flickered, “…You guys got a plan? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Kinda. We’re thinkin’ about taking matters in our own hands,” he replied quietly, a grin flickering on his face, too. “Not right now, of course—too risky. But we think we got something we can do pretty soon. Like a few days soon.”

“I’m in,” Lennox spoke at once.

“Good. You better come with me the—,” the black man began, but was caught off as one of their newest additions to the base went off—an Energon detection alarm. Everyone within the vicinity paused, still not fully accustomed, but then everyone was moving.

Lennox and Epps both rushed to the interior, and with them came many other soldiers. While the alarms were a new addition, the process was not. They had trained a long time, and they were ready for the incoming Decepticons; first was the armory. For those not already suited, they pulled on all their gear, and then picked up their guns specifically made for the enemy. The last attack was only three weeks ago, so many were still eager to get back for the human lives lost, and some were just still eager for a fight. All were ready, though, and pouring out to the beaches. Right behind them were the Autobots, whom had their guns and whatever weaponry they possessed ready.

It didn’t take long for the enemy to show up and in the form of five, sleek jets with the strangest designs and colors they had ever seen. However, the Autobots didn’t seem too surprised, and took aim as they came closer, and they were coming fast. Lennox gave the order for everyone to prepare for battle, and Prime called for his soldiers to take aim but keep one alive. But then—a surprise.

Jazz, of all Autobots, suddenly broke ranks, powered down his weapons, and shouted for everyone to stop right as the jets were reaching firing range. While most soldiers lost their concentration with more following as Prime got the other Autobots to stop, some had remained focused and fired at the jets. They easily avoided the shots and then transformed in mid-air, where gravity took hold and brought them down hard enough for sand to go flying. They did so in a circle formation, with the fifth landing in the center.

Curses flew and soldiers started to fire, though were blocked by a shield. The jets then revealed their own weapons, although the largest in the center raised his hands, shouting for his fellow jet mechs to put them away. Both Lennox and Prime noticed this, even without Jazz continuing to shout for everyone to stop, and they quickly gave the order to ceasefire.

"Stop shooting you morons!” Lennox shouted, shoving the nearest gun out of a soldier's hands. He looked at his Commander with pure confusion, but he, along with the rest, finally stopped. The Autobots also retracted their guns, and Jazz was finally confronted about his actions. Across from them, the shield surrounded the four jets disappeared as they calmed down themselves, though kept their weapons ready just out of caution. Then the one in the middle—the de-facto leader apparently, stepped forward.

“Is there a green person like us? One that can heal?” the large, light-gray flier inquired in English. From the group of Autobots, Ratchet emerged, his optics curious but prepared for anything. He took a few steps closer with Ironhide and Sideswipe nearby just in case.

“That would be me. Who are you?” he inquired back, and now that things had calmed, it could be seen that these mechs had no faction markings, though they did have blue optics—generally a sign they were _not_ Decepticons. However, Autobots were rarely, if ever, Seekers.

The five glanced at each other before the silver-gray continued, “We don’t have designations. But our Creator needs help.”

More than a few optics brightened—particularly Ratchet’s—at the use of words, and then the greatest surprise of all happened. The light gray Seeker’s chest opened, revealing a cockpit-like area. He reached in and pulled from it a young, _human_ woman. Her hair was darkened, but had a familiar reddish tint. Her skin had paled considerably, and had a feverish sweat glistening on the surface. If any human were to touch her, they would have discovered she felt like she was on fire and seen that her veins were glowing dimly. Her clothes were dirtied with the same sweat and looked like it has been burned in a few spots. She was also unconscious.

“By the Allspark!” the Autobot medic gasped and literally leaped over humans to take the young woman into his servos. The largest Seeker showed signs of reluctance at first, but it was only for a moment and then he handed her over. The others had moved forward defensively at the medic’s movements, and the Autobots had responded in kind, but Prime stopped them, and they too stopped when they saw Ratchet took her gently.

“It’s Catherine!” he cried out as he scanned her. Shouts of surprise went out from behind him, but they were ignored as the results of his scans came up. Alarm flooded across his features and he rushed away, back towards the base. The Seekers cried out, but the largest stopped them, affirming their “Creator” would be fine.

"Ratchet!” Optimus Prime called out, but the medic ignored him, too, as he waved his free hand at the electric-blue mech.

“Jolt. Medbay. _Now_. Tell First Aid to prepare a table,” he barked, running another scan on the young woman. His apprentice nodded as he took after the lime-green mech, leaving the rest to stare in confusion and wonder. Sideswipe and Jazz, however, did not succumb to the stupor and followed the two medics. Their action, in turn, broke Lennox out of his and, ordering his men to stand down and return to base, he raced after them, too. Optimus, also informed his troops to return their posts, although kept five with him to approach the five Seekers. The light-gray still stood in front, the others eyeing the Autobot wearily, weapons still out, but not powered up.

“Where did he take the Creator?” the Seeker inquired, meeting Prime’s optics. The light-gray jet stood close to the Autobot commander’s height, the tip of head coming up to the bottom of Prime's chin. He was almost as bulky as Ironhide, at least in the torso, with a sleeker abdomen and lower body. It was definitely not the same structure as most Seekers, the pattern of which the other four followed, but the “leader” was the largest of his kind they had come across.

“Ratchet, our medic, is taking her to our medical facility to be healed,” Prime replied evenly, meeting all their optics. “Allow me to thank-you for returning her here. It must have been an arduous task escaping from the Decepticons, let alone choosing to defect from them.”

A confused look came to the Seeker leader’s optics, “What’s… a Decepticon? And can we go to this medical facility? Our Creator is uneasy.”

“’Creator’…?” Ironhide rumbled from behind the Prime, and behind him Brawn and Springer shared confusion, while Chromia and Elita-1 exchanged knowing glances. Optimus understood, too—or had an idea.

“…You said you had no designations?” he inquired.

The reddish-brown jet huffed, “Yeah! We don’t have designations and we don’t know what these ‘Cons are or whatever! Just let us go see our Creator already!”

Cries of agreement came from the other four, and it took the silver-gray’s Seekers interference to calm them down.

Primes optics narrowed slightly, “When were you created?”

“What’s with these questions! Let us see our Creator!” the blue Seeker growled, throwing up his arms. Again, their de-facto leader silenced him before he answered.

"Three days ago.”

“Well slag,” was the apt phrase Springer spoke, although other ‘bots might have put it better.

“Come with me,” the Autobot Commander stated and turned, walking back to the base. The Seekers glanced between one another, sheathed their weapons, and followed. The Autobots then took their turn glancing between each other before taking up the rear. Any humans that had remained just looked at one another, completely confused, but they, too, eventually returned inside.

And while rest of the base was succumbing to an odd mixture of confusion—relief for some, and more confusion, for others—the Autobot’s Medical Bay was wrought with worry and concern. Just as was asked, First Aid had a table ready for the medic, whom nearly bust down the doors to get into the room, Catherine cradled in his servos. His protégé was told nothing, the CMO barking orders before he could ask as he set the redheaded young woman down. Jolt raced to help the red-and-white medic bring over one of their medical machines—one specifically meant to take and transfer Energon to mechs.

“Ratchet, I don’t think—,” First Aid began, but Ratchet merely moved him aside to grab the cords.

“Catherine is in a stasis state due to the life-threatening readings of Energon coursing through her body. For whatever reason, she cannot release it and so we must do it for her,” was all he said before he removed the plug-like ending, which would normally be inserted into a mech or femme’s tanks. The red-headed female was human, however, and had no such things. She did have veins, however, and he also had a suitable tool for injecting the device into her.

“But the Energon is in her cells, isn’t? You can just suck it out of a human body!” Jolt spoke up, understanding his teacher’s worry, but also understanding the immediate differences in their biology.

“My scans depict aqueous Energon now in her veins, and not just blood. While she is not suffering from poisoning as badly as her first encounter, her body cannot handle the immense amount of foreign substance. To make matters worse, the Allspark’s power is not fixing the problem for her, so we must act. Otherwise… Well, frankly, I _don’t_ _know_ , but I’m not going to wait to find out!” he replied as he attached the syringe-like ending to the cords and proceeded to turn up her right arm, aiming the needled point right over her scar from her first injury. His student said nothing as the Chief Medical Officer inserted the pointed end and then activated the machine. It thrummed to life, and at once, a purplish liquid became to ooze up the cord. However, Energon wasn’t purple. While they did have a pink form of their energy source, it was n _ever_ purple, and that notion fired up Ratchet’s scans.

“No, no! Slaggit!” he growled, reaching over to the shut down the machine barely even twenty seconds after it had begun its process. Scowling, he removed the needle. “It’s as I feared. We can’t remove it normally. I don’t know much about humans, but I know they need blood, and the Energon in her body would make it impossible to transfuse normal blood. There must be a way, though!”

“Ratchet! _Calm. Down,”_ First Aid spoke up, grasping the mech’s arm. “I understand she is important to you, but acting wildly will not help her. We need to calm down and think of other ways to release the Energon from her body.”

Jolt nodded, “He’s right, and we all know it. In regards to ways—maybe we can activate her powers? What if I charged her?”

“No, no. That might only hurt her or make it worse in this state. She can’t control her powers right now,” the Chief medic shook his head, heeding his assistant’s words and calming himself. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted as the Medical Bay doors slammed open, revealing a silver mech.

“Where is she? Is Catherine alright?” Sideswipe shouted, meaning to roll over to them, but was blocked by Jolt.

“Not now, Sideswipe,” the electric-blue mech urged. “We can’t have any distractions.”

“Listen ta ‘im,” Jazz’s voice spoke from behind, and his clawed hand soon found itself on the silver mech’s shoulder. It was only their briefly as the white-and-blue mech walked by, his gaze set so seriously one would have thought he was in battle. Jolt made no move to stop him, Sideswipe heeded his command, though did not leave, First Aid respectfully moved aside, and Ratchet gave him a brief glance as he came up beside him.

“How bad?” he asked, and the medic frowned.

“Whatever happened, her body’s completely overcharged with Energon—to a point I fear it’s going to begin degrading her body. Her immune system is already starting to fail. I imagine she’s only survived due to the Allspark’s influence and that fact the Energon is feeding her at the same time. However, her body isn’t getting rid of the Energon, and I fear if she doesn’t, she might be unable to wake from stasis.

He turned to gesture at the machine, “To make matters worse, I don’t think any of our normal methods could work, and the humans know nothing on the Allspark or its energy. They’d only end up harming her more if they don’t already plan to ‘study’ her!”

“We can’t let them do that!” Sideswipe growled, having pressed Jolt aside and rolled up across from them. “There must be something! She’s just overcharged, right?”

“It ain’t that simple, ‘Sides,” Jazz frowned. “She ain’t like us—she’s human. We can’t just use what we normally do fo’ us. Anythin’ we do could kill ‘er. We gotta be careful ta figure this out.”

The silver mech growled softly, but reigned himself to simply clenching his fists. He was, thankfully, not ordered to leave, and left alone as Ratchet and Jazz conversed with one another and then the other medics. There was talk of using other mechanisms to transfer the energy from her. They did not want to do so forcibly—they feared it might harm or activate something that would harm her. However, the white-and-blue mech soon began to _suggest_ doing just that—using something that would activate the powers on their own, but not with a source like Jolt’s whips. It took a few kliks, but an idea came to Ratchet and he turned his optics onto a clear box that had managed to escape heavy damage in the earlier attack.

While the four of them set about repairing the device, Sideswipe stood alone, his optics focused on the young, redheaded woman’s prone form. She looked so weak as she laid there, her body shivering and dribbling with cold sweat. Her face looked to be in pain as well, and he swore he would hurt any of the ‘Cons who had done this to her. He didn’t even think twice about it, and he no longer questioned the notion. He _needed_ her. It was almost impossible to explain why, but he needed her as much as he needed Sunstreaker. She wasn’t a replacement, though. She had her own spot within his spark, and to see her this way—so close to death… He couldn’t stand it. He had to help her.

He glanced up at the group, catching small snippets. They had said she was overcharged, and something about the Allspark power or whatever within her not working right. Truth be told, he had never really understood all that talk. He had tried to, but it wasn’t his strong suit. He was a fighter, but now he wished he had tried harder to learn. Then maybe he would know what to do.

Jazz was right—they couldn’t do the normal procedures. She was a human. She didn’t have an Energon tank to empty or even an Energon line. He wouldn’t dare let any human medic or scientist near her either. They had already had many conversations of what could happen if they did, and his blades just itched to spring out whenever he recalled it. Still—there had to be _something_ to get rid of the overcharge…

And not even a klik later, something pinged inside his processor and his optics brightened.

It was a long shot he knew, but something—he dared call it intuition—told him it would work. Regardless, he reached down and cupped the young woman into his hands. He shifted his torso plates, revealing the glowing orb within, which he pushed forward. He paused to look down at her, a sliver of doubt flashing into his processor, but then vanished with the rise of resolve, and he pressed her against his spark. As he expected, his spark reached out to her at once—to the Allspark within—and her powers reached back.

By the Pit did it reach back!

He arched upwards, though his hands kept close around her despite everything that fought against such a motion. Pain went through his body and a cry followed, catching the others’ attention. Even if they wanted, they could do nothing. The connection was made, and blue lightning sputtered from her body, reaching out to everywhere, though it went mostly his spark. He could feel them touching his life force, filling it with energy and yet taking it at the same time. Her thoughts and memories and pain filled his mind and frame and then left him in uncontrolled waves. He knew what had to be done, and so steadied his will against the pain and grabbed onto those emotions, reining them in so that they could no longer leave.

The lightning began to slow and shrink then, and he was able to look down at the young woman. Her body was lit blue and her eyes were wide, also glowing so bright they were almost white. Her gaze was unfocused, though; as if she were seeing something else. He reached out to her, but was forced to recoil as something awful and powerful struck him. Whatever it was left a lingering feeling of disgust and horror, but he steeled himself again to try once more. This time he was prepared for the blow and braced against it as he clambered through, searching for her. There was no explaining how he knew what to look for—he just did, and after what felt forever, he found it. It was weak and tired and small, but he found it and grabbed it, pulling it out from the chaos that had attempted to consume it.

And then it was over. The pain was gone. The lightning was gone. His spark retracted. Catherine relaxed. He was himself—no. That wasn’t right. He could feel something else in his processor and his spark. There was another presence besides his brother’s and he knew who it was. He couldn’t focus properly on the name or its owner, though, as his body shuddered and his legs began to collapse. He managed to land his arms on the repair table, keeping the redheaded young woman safe. His legs would have hit the floor had Jazz not caught him in time and helped him stagger up to where he could lean on the table. He shook his head to clear the dizziness, but the white-and-blue mech still had to help steady him.

“Are you malfunctioning?!” Ratchet shrieked, and Sideswipe gave him a look.

“Scan… her…” he managed to mumble.

Before the medic could retort, Jazz spoke, “Do it, ‘Doc. Scan ‘er.”

The Chief Medical officer eyed the saboteur for a moment, but obeyed and scanned the unconscious female’s form. He grumbled softly about how he should have kept them out. However, that was put a stop as the results came back and he stared, dumbfounded. Beside him, his assistants checked the results as well, and were just as confused.

“How… Sideswipe,” Ratchet inquired, his mouth agape. “How did you…?”

The silver mech half-grinned, half-winced, “Sunny n’ me… when one of us would get… overcharged, we’d… we’d combine our sparks to… diffuse the charge. It makes it so we could avoid side effects and get back to duty faster. Stay outta trouble, too.”

“An’ what made ya think that it’d work fo’ ‘Cat?” Jazz inquired next, although his tone and look suggested he was not surprised at all.

“Call it a hunch. But she’s alright now—right?”

Ratchet shook his head, “I can’t believe it, but yes. Her body… it’s back to normal. Granted, there is still some residual Energon, but nothing her body can’t handle. She’s still very weak, but she should wake up on her own. As for you—besides being an idiot—you’ll just need recharge and some Energon.”

"Basically the same thing as always,” the silver mech chuckled, finally managing to steady himself. “That’s good, though. It worked.”

And then, for the second time that day, the doors to the Med Bay were burst open. However, this time it was not one mech shouting, but five of them—five Seekers to be exact, and their ruckus was enough to make Ratchet’s metallic brow twitch and decide he’d had quite enough of unruly mechs barging into his personal domain and shouting one thing or another at him. It was especially so when his patient was now on her way to recovering—somehow due to an idiot’s actions—and the five of them were quickly invading his space, demanding to know what had happened.

“ _ENOUGHI!”_ he roared after suffering it for ten kliks, but much to his ire, that was unable to stop the five Seekers.

“What did you do to her?!” the blue one growled, jabbing an accusing finger at all of them.

“Yeah! We felt our Creator get all weird!” the reddish-brown one barked.

“She was in pain, too!” the green Seeker added, huffing.

“Why’s that guy holding her?! Who is he?! Did he hurt her!” the almost-black jet howled, taking a step closer, but was stuck behind their large, light-gray leader.

“Is the Creator alright?” the light-gray inquired, the calmest of the group, though he looked ready to cause a riot himself.

“Be silent! All of you! Or I will tell you nothing and have you forcibly removed!” Ratchet hissed, rising to his full height, which, although shorter than the largest Seeker, reached a little over the height of the others. It was not much of a difference, but the medic had been likened to death itself for a reason; his optics flared with such malice that the five quickly shut their mouths, although they did not back away. Instead, the remained where they stood, pouting like stubborn children.

“Slaggit all—finally!” Ironhide’s voice rang out from behind, and the medic’s optic twitched ever so slightly. “Little fraggers just ran off for no reason!”

“Will the intrusions never cease?!” the Chief Medical Officer exclaimed, causing Ironhide to pause, but then the medic turned his gaze onto the largest of the Seekers, whom had coughed to gain his attention. “As for you—Catherine is _fine_ now. Whatever you felt was what healed her. And I don’t care if she is your ‘creator’ or whatever you wish to call her—You. Will. Leave. _Now_. She needs to rest and she will get none if you continue to cause a commotion. That goes for everyone here who is _not_ a medic!”

“But—!” the reddish-brown Seeker began, but was cut off as Ironhide suddenly grabbed him and the green one by the armor on their necks and dragged them back out into the hall.

“That’s enough out of you,” the black-armored mech growled and proceeded to pull the other two out. “Autobot Rule Number One: Ratchet’s word is _law_. You’d do well to listen and obey. Not to mention you were _supposed_ to be telling Prime what happened.”

“My apologies,” the light-gray leader spoke up, following the black mech to the door, though not yet leaving the room. “We could not ignore the Creator’s cries.”

“Well, then ya don’t have ta worry n’more,” Jazz replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “’Cat’s in good hands ya see. Ya don’t have ta worry ‘bout nothin’. She just needs some rest is all and she be right as rain soon enough. Ya can believe that. Now how ‘bout we get ya back ta Prime and finish that conversation, yeah?”

The Seeker glanced back, “We wish to stay with the Creator, though…”

Cries of agreement came from the others, whom were huddled against the wall, Ironhide blocking their path.

“ _No_ ,” was the medic’s response, though his back was turned as he took Catherine from Sideswipe’s hands and set her down onto the table. He then proceeded to get Sideswipe to sit on another. His assistants, meanwhile, went about moving everything back into place and watching the scene quietly, although an occasional amused grin came upon their features.

“Look, it’s like I told ya: ya don’t need ta worry. Ratchet will take care ‘o her,” the saboteur pressed, and with a frown, the Seeker leader finally nodded. His fellow Seekers were not happy and expressed as much aloud with folded arms or arm throwing.

“They are right, brothers. The Creator is well now—you can feel it, too. And the Creator trusts them, so we should, too,” he stated, and his words quieted the other four. “This is the Creator’s home, so it is also ours. It would be good for us to learn about it.”

“At least _one_ of you has common sense,” Ironhide snorted, and silenced any complaints with a glare. “Let’s go then. Prime’s asking where these little slaggers are.”

The older mech then got the four against the wall moving despite their grumbles and childish insults directed at him. The light-gray mech filed in behind, though soon joined his brothers, although not in their banter. Jazz remained behind to close the Medbay doors. Whatever he had planned was interrupted as Commander Will Lennox came rushing over at a fast jog. His face was dribbling with sweat and he had to pause to catch his breath.

“Where is she? Is Catherine okay?” he gasped, his eyes looking towards the closed doors. “Let me see her!”

Jazz held up his hands for peace, “She’s restin’ now, Commander. Ya don’t need ta worry. I can’t let ya in, though. Ratchet wants nothin’ ta bother her, but ya can come in as soon as she’s awake.”

“But…” the man growled at first, but slowly became to calm. Before he could go on, he ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. “Just… Thank God. I can’t... She’s back, and just— _God_. She’s alright. Isn’t she?”

“She will be after some rest,” the mech nodded, and Lennox leaned against the wall.

“Thank God… Thank fucking God,” he whispered, bringing the hand down to cover his eyes.

Jazz waited a few moments before speaking again, “Prime is speaking with the 'bots that brought ‘er back. Ya can see ‘em if ya want, and hear what they have ta say. It’ll at least past the time before ya can see ‘Cat sooner.”

Lennox glanced up the mech, but then back down to the wall straight across from him, thought for a few moments, and then nodded.

“Yeah. That’s, um, a good idea. I’ll do that. God… she’s okay,” he mumbled and, with a quick relay of direction, he walked off the same way Ironhide had gone.

Alone now, and with no sign of more humans coming, Jazz turned the hand he had touched the largest Seeker with so that he could see his palm. He was quiet and his face was stern as he gazed, his thought rumbling. Whatever workings went on, he did not speak aloud, but he did utter a few simply words when he lowered his hands and looked to the Medbay doors.

“’Cat… what have ya done?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Ratchet, her heartbeat is rising,” First Aid stated, his scanners picking up on the change. Ratchet came over at once, having been working on continuing to fix up their room. It wasn’t completely finished, but they were almost there. Thankfully, most of their machines were relatively unharmed—they were especially thankful the Converter was alright—and so most work was done on the room itself. He’d made sure they all had their scanners focused on the young woman while they worked, though, and since First Aid had been closest, he discovered the change first, and it seemed that not only had her heartbeat risen, but her body was shaking a little, too, and her face looked to be in pain.

Ratchet scanned her quickly, “I see no changes besides less Energon… It could just be one of those human ‘nightmares’, I believe.”

“Give her to me,” Sideswipe suddenly spoke up, and both medics looked up, surprised. The mech had been in recharge for a few breems now, and so their talking should not have woken him. Normally, the green-armored medic would question the silver mech’s logic, but the silver mech’s blue optics were so full of purpose and assuredness that he carefully set Catherine into Sideswipe’s hands. Even Jolt stopped to watch as Sideswipe brought her close to his chest and—to their surprise—her heartbeat calmed and the shivering stopped. Her face even relaxed and she turned closer to his spark.

“She’ll be alright now,” he told them, as if it was so simple. Ratchet could only shake his head with confusion, deciding he would just ask later after he mulled on it for a while. There was no doubt he would not be able to understand how on his own, but his pride had long since realized that Catherine’s predicament was beyond his medical knowledge and so turned away without ire and returned to work. The other medics stared a little bit longer at the two—Sideswipe holding her close and looking as relaxed as Catherine was—before returning to their work as well.

* * *

* * *

**TMWolf:** _RIGHT. SO. I HOPE YA'LL ARE HAPPY NOW. 'Cause, well, they've obviously bonded :3 Not in the conventional way, but it happened anyways... and you'll find Catherine won't mind all that much that he didn't ask before hand ;) Granted, a "Spark bond" is just exchanged spark signatures and makes it so they can "read" each other better, thus basically just making them a LOT closer. Anywho- SO YEAH THEY'RE BONDED NOW, BWAHAHAHA. Oh, and 'Cat's finally back home! :) Granted, that might not be so great considering Jazz's... ominous words at the end there~_

_Oh, and expect me torturing Ratchet... a lot. With the Seekers. Seriously. It's going to become like my favorite thing to do, ha ha ha. I love messing with 'ol grumpy-bot xD_

_BY THE WAY- If you didn't catch it... THREE **WEEKS** HAVE GONE BY. So so has been in the Fallen's clutches for three weeks. This also means I am altering the ROTF timeline quite a bit. The movie will progress as it is shown, but it's just spread out longer. And, of course, Galloway has been a complete douche throughout the entire three weeks and make things impossible difficult. What a jerk :/_

_And, um, expect major Cat x Sides moments next chapter! :D It's basically all about them, ha ha~ And now time to wait for the next chapter~! 8D_


	48. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dry the River - Family
> 
> Hope y'all happy she finally got her robot boyfriend xD

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_She can feel him. She can feel his taint. It is suffocating her—drowning her in its torrent. She can feel it invading her body; seeping through the skin; through the pores to the blood. She feels it spiraling through her, corroding her from the inside out. She feels it burrow into her mind, disfiguring her thoughts and memories; feels it changing her into something else. She tries to scream, but has no lungs, no voice to do so. She wants to flee, but her limbs are gone, devoured by the darkness. She looks for light, but sees none. She only feels Him and hears His laughter—His sickening words, whispering like a deadly siren in her ears, calling her, lulling her._

_She looks and suddenly she can see, but it is not light or sanctuary she finds—only despair. The Fallen. He is there. His optics staring. The deep, bloodied red optics gazing at her; claiming her. She feels His hand reach out; feels the claws brush against her skin, His words beckoning her closer. She feels His hold tighten on her mind and she knows she is falling deeper. Soon she will be gone._

_She struggles once more. She does not want to die. She does not want to become part of Him—to become part of the darkness. It frightens her. She is scared. She doesn't know what to do. She cries out for help, though her voice is still gone. She prays for a savior—for someone to find her in this darkness. He reaches for her for one final time; she tries to scream again._

_Then—a light._

_A razing beam that sears the Fallen's arm, and forces Him back. He snarls and curses and raves and spits, but the light does not whither. It is a stalwart wall against the darkness, and expands with each passing moment. She feels the darkness fading; can feel her body becoming her own again. She soon sees her fingers, and feet, and then her arms and legs. She can move them, and does—she reaches for the light. It is warm and soft and welcoming. It is familiar to her, she realizes, and she lets it embrace her. She closes her eyes and can hear a voice. It is soft and kind and loving, and beckoning her forth from the darkness. She clings fast and listens, letting it rip away the last of the Fallen's bonds._

_She is free and she ascends._

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**-O-**

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Catherine's eyes opened and then closed quickly, the light painfully bright. She went about opening them again, slowly this time, and soon she was able to see the gray ceiling high above her. There was a pressure around her waist, and when she looked down she found silver metal, but instead of a cool surface it was warm. It held her just right, too—tight enough to keep her close and safe, yet was comfortable; protective. There was metal behind her, too, and even more came from it. That warmth was greater than in the grip on her body, and she turned toward it instinctively. She relaxed some, and stared up at the ceiling again, her brain beginning to understand something very important.

With a sigh she closed her eyes, letting it soak in. It faltered, however, as the darkness beneath her eyelids turned pitch black, save for the two red orbs that stared back. Her gasp caught in her throat as her eyes flashed open once more. However, it was not the gray, flat ceiling that lay above her; it was a string of dark, alien metal and pipes thrumming with blue Energon. Within them was a darker form whose body was lit with red light and red eyes which burned deep into her. Panic took hold as she squirmed, but the eyes held her fast so she tried to scream.

_Catherine_.

The eyes, the red, the walls—everything vanished. The gray ceiling was back, and with it a wave of warmth that blanketed her body and filled it. The panic ceased and she relaxed again, closing her eyes to lean towards the source and the voice. She felt the metal holding her gently tighten a little and pull her closer. She could hear the voice from before reverberate through her mind, though it did not speak any true words. It was more of a presence, one which calmed and soothed her. It subdued any darkness, creating a barrier that kept her anchored her to the world. This was the real world. Wasn't? No—yes. It was. Maybe.

_I'm here_.

She opened her eyes for the third time and looked up to find a pair of blue optics gazing softly down at her. She supposed she should have been surprised that it was the silver mech, but she wasn't. He smiled humorously then—as if he had sensed her thought—and then she too cracked a smile, but not necessarily of her own doing she realized. This time he chuckled and shifted so that he was sitting upright, but still kept her close. She moved, too, almost sitting up right, but leaning her arms onto the top of his chassis.

_You'll get used to it_ , his voice spoke in her mind—again not in actual words, but she knew what he had said. She smiled a little and laid her head down, enjoying the warmth. It was nice and honestly didn't feel strange at all.

And then she really understood: She was back. She was back at the Autobot base. She was free. She moved her head up to look around and, sure enough, her prison was nowhere to be found. There were four, straight walls made from Earth metal, various shelves and desks littered with medical materials, remnants of a battle from ages ago, and the familiar lime-green frame of the Autobot medic. His back was turned, busy fiddling with something, but he was there. Sideswipe was there, too, holding her and sharing the warmth that she realized came from his spark.

She was safe.

She was home.

"...I'm back," she spoke, but her voice was hoarse and came out as a rasping whisper. She winced, a slight burn in her throat, but ignored it as she looked up into the twin, glowing seas of blue.

"Yeah," he replied aloud this time, smiling softly and lifting her to his face. She reached out and grasped the side of his cheeks to press her forehead against his. Her eyes watered a little, the full extent of relief overflowing her, though she kept it under control and withheld the tears. Sideswipe helped as well, filling her with a feeling of joy. She could not explain nor did she care to know how he did it, so she let it go on and dried her eyes.

They were interrupted, however, as a loud clang echoed through the room and they both turned to find Ratchet staring at them with wide optics.

"By the—you're awake!" he cried out, thought kept his brimming happiness in check as he hurried over, a scan already ready to go. They waited, both grinning, as he went over the results and relaxed some. "And you're alright. Still weak, but alright."

"Not going to grow metal skin?" she inquired, voice still raspy, and he paused, surprised, before chuckling.

"No. Not even metal skin. You must be starving, though—."

"Mom!" a chorus of five voices rang out and the medic visibly flinched before groaning whereas the silver mech and redheaded young woman looked to the Medbay doors. There they found five mechs with wings on their backs attempting to force their way through the doors all at once. It was a comical sight, and the redhead laughed a little as one fell down before they could finally squeeze in. The fallen one—bearing blue armor—hurried to join the others in crowding around her. Sideswipe took it well, although she sensed the smallest hint of annoyance as they came increasingly closer, and so he kept a comfortable, but secure grip on her. Ratchet was, of course, greatly annoyed about being shoved aside, but merely threw up his hands and stormed back to his work, grumbling about getting tired of everyone bursting in uninvited and disrupting things.

"Are you okay?!" the reddish-brown Seeker cried out, looking her over.

"We felt you panic!" the green one spoke, frowning with concern.

"Yeah—we got worried!" the blue one pouted.

"What happened?" the near-black Seeker inquired, leaning a so close that Sideswipe pulled her back a little, which earned him four glares.

"You are alright now, mother?" the largest, light-gray-armored one asked gently.

Catherine looked between them all, confused, although mostly in part because she could _feel_ their worry above all else—it even almost completely drowned out the warmth Sideswipe gave her. Even more off was the fact they called her "Mom" and "Mother", but she didn't recall meeting them...And then she understood.

She had created them. She had made them to... to... No. She didn't want to think about why. She had made them, though, and all five of them were her _children_. She knew it and accepted it at once.

"I'm fine," she spoke, her throat already beginning to heal some. "I'm much better now."

Relief crossed all of their faces, and then they all turned their gazes onto Sideswipe, a concoction of suspicion, jealousy, annoyance, and more. She felt the silver mech regard them back with much the same, and knew he was already judging what it would take to fend them off.

"Who is this guy, Mom?" the green Seeker inquired at last, frowning.

"Yeah. I don't like him," the blue one added.

"He's always holding you," the reddish-brown seethed.

"He's kept you from us ever since we got here!" the almost-black huffed.

"We would like it if we knew why he's kept you from us," the light-gray Seeker hummed. "We understand the medic's reasons, but not this mech."

She laughed, harder than she expected, "Oh, you guys are adorable! He's Sideswipe. He's... Um... Well, he's... He's special—important. To me. You can trust him. He wouldn't hurt me ever."

The five Seekers glanced at one another, huffed, and then retracted their stares and relaxed a little. The silver mech, sharing a pleased sensation with her, let her get a bit closer to them.

"Don't you five have something to be doing? I distinctly recall Prime mentioning you were to be learning about base regulations," Ratchet barked up suddenly, and all of Seekers looked over with annoyance.

"Screw that! We've waited long enough to be with Mom! She's _our_ Mom, but you and this guy have been keeping her to yourselves! It's not fair!" the green one pouted.

"Yeah! We've had to sit back and worry! We haven't even gotten to tell her our names!" the almost-black Seeker shouted.

"Unmaker take me now," Ratchet groaned, slapping his hand to his face, before looking to the silver mech. "Sideswipe, would you mind heading to the human side and having Commander Lennox get Catherine some food? I'm afraid I don't carry any around here, and I might be able to get these idiots to leave if I give them some visiting hours with her."

The silver mech looked at the redhead, whom smiled as she said, "I'll be okay."

"I'm never far away," he smiled back and finally set her down. She frowned at the sudden lack of warmth, but it returned quickly—his presence reaching over whatever bond had formed between them. The Seekers parted to let him by and even before Ratchet had filled him in on what specifically to get, the five crowded around her, leaning close with excited grins on their faces. She grinned back, feeling their excitement and happiness. Her instinctual nature as a mother kicked in as it had done with her other creations—a moment of sadness passed through as she recalled them, but the five's emotions quickly bandaged the wound—and she lifted her hands to touch the face of the nearest one, which happened the be the largest, light-gray Seeker.

His body shape was shared with the others, although at a larger scale. His head was a mixture of boxy and rounded, encased in a protective helmet with a few jagged, but not harmful edges. His torso was wide and in a shape similar to a triangle, and on the center was a curved hill that she knew had to be the cockpit. Why he had one was beyond her, but it had served a good purpose. His hips were smaller than she would have expected, especially when the legs were actually rather thick and had angled edges that reminded her on the fins at the back of a fighter plane. His wings were folded behind him, but were flexible and capable of moving in unison with his emotions. The others were much the same, with only a few variations with curves or edges, but not much else. All their optics were the same as well— a bright blue with an intelligent, though young look.

"I have yet to thank-you for bringing me here, so... thank-you. How did you even manage to get here?" she inquired softly as the Seeker bringing his face close enough to touch her nose to his.

"You showed us, actually. We saw this place and we just knew," the blue-armored Seeker grinned.

The green one smirked, "And it was me who got us here as fast we did. These losers can't teleport like I can!"

"It still took you three days to teleport us here," the reddish-brown snorted.

"And you made us go through a freaking asteroid field that almost got us killed!" the almost-black added with a snort. The green Seeker made swipes at them, which proved hard to do when their largest brother stood in the way.

Catherine laughed, "Now, now, boys. No fighting. How about you tell me those names you were talking about instead?"

"Oh yeah!" the reddish-brown Seekers exclaimed and shoved the light-gray aside. "I'm Slingshot! I'm the coolest one there is!"

The blue one shoved him aside, "Please! You're so slow! I'm Firelight, and I'm _way_ better than him!"

"Ha! Yeah right! You can't even fly straight! I'm Air Raid and I'm the best fighter out these losers!" the green Seeker laughed loudly.

"Only people who boast are the ones who suck!" the almost-black Seeker laughed. "I'm Skydive, by the way."

"Don't mind them, Mother. We've all been kind of arguing about it," the light-gray Seeker chuckled softly.

"And what about you? What do you call yourself?" she inquired of the towering aerial mech.

"I decided on Silverbolt. They're the closest translations we could make to the Cybertronian names that fit us best. I don't know why they bother with Cybertronian since we all use English, but this Optimus Prime person said it would be best since we're Cybertronian ourselves," he explained.

"Well, I think they all suit your fine. They're all... aerial-like names. They suits fliers like you," she smiled, and all five of them beamed happily.

"See! I knew she would like them!" Fireflight laughed.

"What have you all been up to while I was... out?" she inquired, glancing curiously between them all.

"Being bored to death by the Optimus guy and that old fragger who's all full of himself just 'cause he's got some big cannons!" Air Raid growled, folding his arms.

"Watch it, you little slaggers. Optimus is to be addressed as _Prime_ or _Commander_!" Ratchet barked loudly, but four of the five merely mimicked him mockingly.

"No, no. You listen to him," Catherine spoke, jabbing a finger at all of them. "Ratchet is the one who will fix you up, so you do what he says. You will _also_ do what Prime says. He is the Autobot Commander and also the leader of all Cybertronians on this base, so you _will_ listen to him, too."

Skydive sulked, "Ugh. _Fine_ , but only because you said so, Mom. I don't like taking orders from all these guys. They're so boring and _old_."

"I know, right? Oh yeah! They offered to let us be Autobots—something about it being better for us—but I dunno. They're all kind of sticks-in-the-mud except for the Jazz guy. He's pretty cool," Slingshot hummed, receiving a chorus of agreements.

"Prime asked you to be Autobots?"

Silverbolt nodded, "Yes, Mother. Yesterday, while you were sleeping and when he was teaching us the rules around here. He mentioned we were welcome to join them and the fight if we wanted, and that it would probably be easier on us if we did, but we don't have to. He's also informed us what they're all about and what's been going on with those 'Decepticon' Cybertronians. Personally, we all thought we should join since you're an Autobot, but we wanted to see if you were alright with it first."

"Yeah, but all those _rules_! These guys are so strict and annoying! They're not going to let us fly around whenever we want and they're saying they won't let me teleport!" Air Raid growled.

"The rules aren't _that_ bad. They have good things to teach us, anyways. I just find the humans kind of annoying. We have to be so careful! And then they always look at us weird," Fireflight frowned, and Catherine laughed.

"But I'm human."

"But you're different!" the blue-armored Seeker quickly added, leaning closer with apologetic eyes.

"You're our Mom, so, y'know, that makes you different from them. And we can get used to it if you want. I'll follow some stingy rules and listen to the Prime guy if you want us to," Slingshot hummed.

"If you want _me_ to?"

"Well, yes," Silverbolt began. "You're our mother, so we want to make sure it's okay with you. If you don't want us to join, then we won't. We just want to make you happy."

"Oh, you guys!" she sighed, looking up at them with a smile. "Thank-you, boys, but I'll be happy if you do what makes _you_ happy... Unless, of course, what makes you happy gets you killed. I will _not_ be happy if you do that. But, if you want to join the Autobots, then you go right ahead. It's a dangerous life, but it'd be dangerous as a neutral anyways. These guys will look out for you, and it'd probably be good for you, too. But if you don't want to, that's fine by me. But you can't become Decepticons. That I will _not_ allow."

"Ugh. Trust us—we wouldn't. Those guys make me sick!" Skydive spat. "Especially that Megatron guy!"

"I hate the Screamer guy the most! He thought he was so tough, but I showed him that one time! I dare him to take me on!" Slingshot laughed.

"Maybe we should join the Autobots then. I mean... It seems like it _is_ better to be an Autobot than a neutral or whatever. We couldn't fight if we were neutrals, so it'd be hard to keep the Decepticons away if we were, but as Autobots we totally could!" Skydive spoke next, using hand gestures to make his point.

"Oh, hey you're right! Yeah, we should totally be Autobots then! They probably get better benefits, too! But yeah, we gotta keep Mom safe, so let's be Autobots!" Fireflight grinned, and nods accompanied his suggestion.

"I suppose that's a 'yes' from us then," Silverbolt hummed. 

"You guys won't regret the decision," Catherine smiled back and then laughed as Ratchet made a loud "we will" comment from behind them. "Despite Ratchet's grumpiness, the other Autobots are good mechs and femmes. Jazz is just the tip of the iceberg. And while Prime can seem a little stiff, he does have some fun in him. You can trust him. He'll do what's best for everyone and treat you like family under his leadership. The others are all great, too, so you should get to know them."

"But who do you like the best?" Skydive inquired, leaning a little closer.

"Who do I like? No, no. You guys have to find that out for yourselves. I can't tell you that," she replied. "That's now how it works. You're your own person—er, mech, so you need to go talk to them and find out who you like."

Skydive sighed, "Fiiiine."

"Eh, that's not so bad. I mean, I'd prefer liking what you liked, Mom, but okay," Firelight mused, twiddling his fingers together.

"I'm up for it! More of a challenge!" Air Raid laughed, pumping his fists.

"I _guess._ I mean, I'm already so cool it'll be a cake walk," Slingshot smirked, his reddish-brown wings flexing.

"It would help teach us as well. We are, by your standards, a newborn, although our processors our far more advanced and we have already learned much," Silverbolt added, glancing amongst his brothers, whom also nodded.

"Good. Then I want you to watch over them," Catherine stated firmly, and all five stared in surprise, the largest Seeker especially. "You're the most levelheaded of them all, and you seem like you'd be good enough to keep them all in place when I'm not around. You hear that, boys? When I'm not around, you listen to Silverbolt. Of course, you listen to Prime and Ratchet before that. And the other commanding officers, but Silverbolt's in charge, alright?"

A chorus of disagreement went up—including from Silverbolt—but she silenced them with a stern jab of her finger.

"No. You listen. Silverbolt is the leader of your group. He listens to Ratchet and Prime. And you will listen to me, too, is that clear?"

"Yes, Mom," they all sighed, slumping a little.

"But... Mother... I don't...," the large, light-gray Seeker began nervously, but the redhead touched his hand gently.

"Silverbolt, have some confidence. You're the leader of the five of you now, so you need to watch out for them and make sure they don't do anything stupid, alright?"

He paused, gathering himself, and then nodded confidently, "Alright. I'll do it."

While his brothers looked around unhappily, the largest Seeker had a pleased smile on his face, one which matched that on the redheaded young woman's face. The others eventually gave in and started to grin and laugh and exchange jokes about their new "leader". Ratchet would occasionally give his own input, generally along the lines of how idiotic they were being or how life was going to be terrible or how if more slaggers came in he was going to throw a fit and ban everyone but actual medics from the room regardless if someone was about to fall to pieces or not. And all the while, Catherine enjoyed it and soaked in their presence, which filled her with a kind of peace she didn't think she'd ever known. And at the core was the overwhelming sensation of the presence of the silver mech, which thwarted any attempts of the dark thoughts to enter her mind. Although, at times, she wondered if she should—if only because she had the sinking feeling that she was forgetting something very terrible and very important.

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**-O-**

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Like the rest of the team, Lennox was anxious as he sat in the break room, absent mindedly nudging his food this way and that with his fork, though none of it actually made it to his mouth. His team fared better, although they too had a similar worried expression. It had been almost a whole day since Catherine had made it back, but no one had been able to see her because she was still asleep. Ratchet had not given them any explanations, either, which made it all the more worse. She was his daughter! He couldn't stand not being able to make sure she was okay. He trusted Jazz and the medic's word, but he still wanted to see her. He wasn't alone in the sentiment either, and while that helped a _little_ , it wasn't enough to ease his mind.

To make matters worse, it was only a matter of time before Galloway came running his damned self in here after hearing the news she was back. He had tried to make sure it had been kept a secret and under wraps, but he honestly didn't know how well it had worked. He knew _most_ of the soldiers here did not like Galloway and had supported Catherine even after her "secret" was out, but there were bound to be soldiers who would be _happy_ to tell Galloway Catherine had returned. That meant so much trouble for her, and she was still hurt. Not to mention she was rolling in a heap of trouble and problems due to the fact they all knew she was the Allspark. He knew the Autobots wouldn't let anything bad happen—Hell, _he_ wouldn't let anything bad happen—but he couldn't guarantee they wouldn't have to do anything, either. He feared what he would have to do if they tried to take her. He feared what the _Autobots_ would do if they tried to take her.

"Think she's awake?" David spoke up suddenly, and it was like a loud gunshot in dead silence. The others didn't even look up, giving only a few shrugs or grunts. If there was one thing Lennox was grateful for, it was the fact the rest of the guys had absolutely no problems with Catherine being the Allspark. They'd taken it better than he expected, and the blonde-haired man had even made jokes about it. They'd also all agreed that it explained a lot—specifically why she got along with all the Autobots so well and why they chose her to be their liaison. The best part of it all, though, was that they understood it didn't change anything about her. She'd been the Allspark the whole time, so why would their knowing the secret change who she was? He knew it would help Catherine, but he didn't know about the rest of the soldiers.

"Should we go see if she's awake?" Fig suggested this time, but no one jumped to the idea. The answer was most likely no, and the General had advised people to stay away for now, considering the tight rope the whole situation was walking. Of course, if she _was_ awake, there was no doubt they would be over there in a heartbeat.

Lennox sighed and set his fork down, "Jazz said he'd keep us updated, so we'll just have to wait until he comes by."

There were some nods and then silence took hold again. Lennox went back to messing with his food, ignoring some of the glances in his direction. The team was her family, too, but they knew the Commander was much closer being that the redhead was considered actual family, although not legally. They knew he was taking it the hardest, especially when his wife didn't know and he couldn't bring himself to tell her what happened to their adopted daughter. They didn't think they could do it, either, and so they silently sympathized with him.

The bang of a door broke the silence, followed by a shout, "Commander?"

Their entire table looked up to find a female soldier turning her head this way and that, searching. Her eyes found the brown-haired man quickly enough and she hustled over, saluting once she was beside him.

"Sir! Autobot Sideswipe told me to inform you that Autobot medic Ratchet would like you to bring a human meal to the Autobot Medbay," she spoke, and let a small grin appear at the end. She waited a few moments of staring at his blank gaze, his mind trying to figure it out. "Catherine's awake, sir. And she's hungry."

The Commander stood up abruptly, jostling his plate, and then hurried over to the food line where the cooks served him at once. He could have cared less for the other soldiers watching, and he didn't need to say anything for his team to stand up and move for the door. Catherine was awake, and they were going to see her and share dinner with her, and no one was going to stop them. Except, that is, the female soldier— but only for a moment.

"Ah, excuse me, sir!" she called out, and Lennox paused. "If I may... Could I join you all as well?"

He raised a brow, "You want to eat with Catherine?"

"I know, I know... Weird, huh? Well, uh, you see... I was friend with Steeljaw, and, well, obviously Catherine was his creator, and I, uh, my sister lost a kid of her own, so um... Well, I want to pay some respects and help her feel better! Besides... I mean, I've always thought Catherine was a pretty cool person, and she's still just Catherine, right?"

Lennox said nothing as he stared, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. He nodded a few seconds later, and the young woman brightened before saluting and going to get her own plate of food. The Commander turned to leave, but was stopped by another soldier—this one a young man he recognized—stood up.

"Commander, I'd like to join, too. She's done all the training and helped us out with the Autobots. She's one of us, Allspark or not." he spoke, and again the Commander nodded.

"Thank-you, Michael."

Then, at last, they left, but they weren't alone. Along with the first two soldiers, a handful more came for some reason for another, while the rest remained, but thought nothing less of those that went. When they found the silver Autobot waiting they got a good chuckle when his optics widened with surprise, having not expected to have guests. He mentioned something about Ratchet getting "pissed" and a few laughed aloud, but he let them come along. Needless to say, it was an odd sight to see Sideswipe leading the group of soldiers carrying food trays to the Autobot side. Even a few Autobots found it odd, but let it be, preferring to stare.

"Y'know, Lennox... there is one thing I've always wondered ever since you told us about the Allspark thing," Antonio suddenly piped up as they turned a corner, and all eyes and ears fell on him and the Commander. "Why didn't she ever tell us? I mean, I understand these guys behind us since they weren't the team, but why not _us_? We would've kept her secret."

"To be honest, I never asked. I just knew she wanted it kept a secret," the brown-haired man shrugged, frowning as he did so. Of course, the answer was unsatisfactory, but, luckily, they were going to get a much better one.

"It's because she was afraid," Sideswipe, of all people, spoke, and they looked up to him, surprised.

"'Afraid'? Afraid of what?" Alexander inquired, and they all stopped as the silver mech did. He looked down at them, his optics glowing dimly as if thinking deeply.

"Of being rejected. She was afraid you'd think she was some kind of freak. I know some of you have. Not _you_ all, but others; they don't think she's human. She _different_ so she knows they're going to treat her like an outcast and they might even abandon her, which is exactly what she's afraid of."

"What? But that's not..." a soldier further back began, but faltered as he recalled, no doubt, words he'd heard from those that had not taken well to her being the Allspark.

"Not _all_ of you would, but some of you have and will. It's inevitable, and she knew that. It's why she didn't want anyone to know she carried the Allspark's power within her. It's why she always had some trouble getting along with you all, but not us."

"You wouldn't do that because she's the Allspark," Michael added as confirmation.

"We wouldn't do it because she's _Catherine_. We don't care that she's the Allspark. She's Catherine, and that's all that matters," he replied, and, leaving it to sink in, turned to continue on his way. Silence settled for a little while longer, as many of them thought on his words. Lennox especially, though more so because the Autobot has made a point he had wanted to make, but had done it better than he could have ever hoped to. He also silently swore to make sure she never felt alone, ever.

Their stupor was broken once they arrived at the Medbay and, much to their surprise, found five new Seekers were crowded around a table while Ratchet stood off to the side, working on whatever he did. The medic looked up at their revival, but then quickly soured as he spotted them, which turned into a glare aimed at Sideswipe. The silver mech merely grinned, noting Catherine had some guests who wanted to join her meal. Ratchet opened his mouth to object at once, but with a glance at Catherine whom gasped with delight at the sight of the humans, he changed his mind, closed him mouth, noted that just _this once_ he would allow it, told the mech to get them all on the medical table, and to not make a mess. Sideswipe complied, had the Seekers help the humans up—some handles the lifting better than other—and all were soon up on the table.

Catherine, if her gasp had been hint enough, was ecstatic to see them all there. She was especially humbled to see people not just from her team—particularly the young man whom she had once thought would never speak to her again. All he said was hi and that he was glad she was feeling better, but that was enough and she knew they could be friends again. The others were just as wonderful, introducing themselves and talking about how they thought it was so freaking cool how she made Steeljaw. "Cool" became an understatement when she introduced them to her new five kids—the five Seekers, whom were only a little annoyed the group of humans were occupying their mother's attention.

The initial shock soon faded, though, and it didn't take long before casual conversation picked up, venturing towards the story of her obtaining the Allspark's power, which she was happy to explain having realized they were perfectly fine with her being an alien artifact. And when that was done, jokes rang up, particularly about Lennox who was now a "grandpa", according to how families work. The Commander took it with good humor, although noted he was not babysitting any of the five kids—he already had the team and the worst one at home.

If that wasn't enough, _more_ Autobots joined them. It was hard not to hear the laughter and talk going on, and so when Jazz and Bluestreak walked by, they just had to join in. Springer, the Triplets, Ironhide, First Aid, and Jolt joined them, too, providing their own insight and inquiries for anyone there. The five Seekers were a hot topic and asked questions themselves, and they did much the same to them. Ratchet, meanwhile, fumed and looked ready to burst with each passing second, his Medbay being continuously invaded by mechs and femmes and humans. He managed to keep his cool, however, and even added some snarky comment, quip, or just a grumpy note about hating the room being so full.

Even with the medic's complaints, Catherine could not have thought of anything better as she sat there, surrounded by friends—Autobots, humans, her children, and Sideswipe, whose spark was always there, keeping her filled with happiness and warmth. Hearing his voice's gentle soothing in her mind was a grand pleasure, too, which she reveled in, though did so in secret, which made it all the better, although occasionally she found her Seekers staring with jealousy at her and Sideswipe as if they knew, and she couldn't help but chuckle at it.

It was a shame it eventually had to end. The human soldiers had shifts to take up as did her team, and so did the Autobots. They promised they would visit when they could, though, and told her to hurry up and get completely better—Ratchet had determined she would be staying until he was certain she was one-hundred percent—so they could hang out normally. Then they began to file out, the humans first, and then the Autobots except for the medics, Sideswipe, and her five kids. Lennox stayed behind longer than the rest to embrace her like a father would, and letting her know he was so glad she was okay and that he was so sorry he couldn't keep her safe. She forgave him of course, and mentioned that they probably shouldn't tell Sarah, which choked out a laugh from him. With a kiss to her brow, he told her to get some more rest and that he'd bring her another meal tomorrow.

Once he was gone, Ratchet finally decided enough was enough and shoed the Seekers out. They did not appreciate it at all, demanding to stay with their mother, but the medic was adamant and even Catherine agreed with him. It was her and Silverbolt's orders that finally got them all out with a promise they'd be back tomorrow for sure. Ratchet refused them at once and closed the Medbay doors abruptly in their face before turning to Sideswipe, whom still remained beside Catherine, his hand serving as a place for her to lean against.

"I'm assuming you plan to stay with her?" he inquired, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

The silver mech nodded, "Yes. You won't let her leave until she's completely fine, and I won't leave her."

"Very well. You're good for her, anyways," he hummed, and then glanced at the other medics. "You two are free to go if you'd like. I can handle the rest. Go recharge."

First Aid and Jolt shrugged at one another and adhered to his command, saying goodnight to the silver mech and redhead, whom had begun to situate on the table while Catherine yawned, her body beginning to tire again. Ratchet watched from the corner of his optics as Sideswipe settled into a prone position and cradled Catherine in his hands, close to his spark. The medic knew humans normally required a much better type of bedding then a metallic hand, but the redheaded young woman was not the normal human and her body did not seem to find the silver mech's hand uncomfortable. Most importantly of all, she was calmer around him. It hadn't skipped his attention that her brain's activity would spike every so often in the silver mech's absence, but when he was there, everything was normal.

He continued to watch, his processor forming theories and possible answers and questions for those answers, but decided to wait until his scanners depicted the young woman had reached REM sleep before coming over. Sideswipe glanced up at him, and the medic couldn't help but notice he'd become a little defensive in his posture.

_"Sideswipe. What did you do to her?"_ he inquired over their comm. link.

_"I told you. You were there,"_ he replied, looking back down at her sleeping form curled close.

_"I don't think you told me everything. Something's changed. You're both... You act like... like you're... But it's not possible. She's human."_

The silver mech looked up, _"It might not be that. It might be something different, but we're connected now. I can feel her and she can feel me."_

_"...She kept... fluctuating when you weren't here,"_ the medic said after a few moments.

_"I know,"_ he replied, his optics hardening. _"There's..._ something _inside her. It's... It's something bad. Something happened to her wherever she was."_

_"And you don't know what?"_

_"I can't do it without her seeing it, too, and it's too painful for her to see. I'm just blocking it from her mind. I know this is hard for you to understand. It's not normal. Just know I won't let whatever it is harm her. I failed her before—too many times now, but not again. No more."_

Ratchet met his gaze for a long while, _"I know. Huh. She's really changed you, Sideswipe. Never thought_ you'd _end up a Spark Mate with a human."_

_"Me either. She just gets to you, y'know?"_ the silver mech smiled, stroking his thumb across her back. _"I don't even know how, but... I just... I needed her. I'm happy with her. She's... She's human, but... I can't even describe it."_

_"You don't have to. She's under my frame too,"_ the medic chuckled. _"Just... be careful, Sideswipe. Catherine may have the Allspark's power within her, but she's still human. The lives they live are very different from ours. They're fragile. Their life is finite, you know. She can live longer than the other humans, but.... She will die one day. Much earlier than you will."_

The silver mech looked away and then back down at the redhead, _"I know, but... I'm willing to endure that. She's worth it."_

_"Alright,"_ Ratchet replied, nodding. _"Keep her safe, Sideswipe. And see me when you need me."_

_"Thanks, Ratchet."_

The medic waved as he turned, _"You guys don't make bad mates. She makes you less annoying, too."_

Sideswipe just laughed, and then turned his optics onto the young redheaded woman. He began to stroke her again while letting his spark reach out and mingle with her own emotions. He would never be able to explain how it worked, but it had, and he was going to protect their bond as much as he could because he needed and wanted her even more than his brother. Yeah. She was worth it.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

_She is forgetting something. She ties to find it, but she is afraid. She knows the answer lies in the darkness somewhere. It is there that it hides, deep within the grasp of the red eyes. The light tells her not to go, and she knows she should listen, but the forgetfulness nags at her. She knows it is something important, and yet she has forgotten it. What could it be, she wonders? What lies in the darkness that eats at her heart and rebuilds it with worry? She knows she is safe in the light's blanket, so there is no need to worry, and yet she does. It is aggravating; she wishes to know. Her wish is strong enough to defy her need for safety. She has to know._

_She grasps hold of the light and molds it into a tether despite the light's urgings to not stray. She tells it she must even though she fears the darkness and the red eyes. She asks it to help her, and, at last, the light agrees and grips her tight. The light will pull her back if she goes too far, she knows, and she takes the plunge._

_The darkness swarms her at once, but the light fends it off, keeping her mind clear and clean. The eyes are there, but she does not look to them. She looks for that thing she has forgotten. She knows not what it is—knows not the shape; the make; the sound; the color. Yet, she knows what it when she sees it. She knows where it lies beneath the darkness and reaches for it._

_A memory. A message. A reason. A resolve. She has it now, and she calls for the light to pull her up. She consumes the piece as she rises. It fills her with sights and sounds. The piece is made from darkness, she realizes, but she is alright as the light engulfs her. She lets it play, though, bidding the light leave it alone. She must see it, she knows, and she does. She sees and hears and feels it all. And afterwards she is afraid; so very afraid._

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

**-O-**

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

Catherine shot up, eyes wide. Sideswipe jerked up as well, full of concern, and Ratchet joined them, having detecting the urgency. Their concerns and questions—even Sideswipe's calls through the bond—were muted as her mind understood what she had just seen. Eyes growing wide and heart beating faster, she looked to the two mechs.

"They're going to kill Sam!"

* * *

* * *

**TMWolf:** _Alright! I do have some explanations points to make! :)_

_So. Yes. They are officially bonded. Kinda of. It's not like a NORMAL bond. For a NORMAL Spark Mate bond to occur, two SPARKS are involved. While Catherine is the Allspark- that is not a NORMAL spark. It is made from Energon/energy, but it's more like a BLANK slate- no wavelengths or characteristics to make it an UNIQUE spark, which, as I've said- Spark Mates must have sparks that are unique to each other and NO ONE ELSE, which does make them rare. Again, 'Cat is basically a blank slate with the Allspark energy, which is why she has multiple bonds between brothers/creations/family/spark mate, and this isn't normal. Furthermore, she is HUMAN. Normally, a "bond" of anything would be impossible since humans do not have sparks. This does effect their bond in turn. For instances, Catherine is not able to use the bond as well as Sideswipe. She can get pretty good, but never as well as a Cybertronian would, and she is really only GUESSING at what he is saying, but she's fairly certain it is what he's saying. And when I say "saying", I don't mean actual words. It's more so she "senses" what he's trying to say from his feelings and it happens to be a pretty good guess. He's like-wise the same, but since he's used to it from Sunstreaker, and Cybertronians' emotions/mental thoughts generally seem to run parallel to humans, he's able to interpret her thoughts/emotions very well._

_Oh, and the reason she can "feel" Sideswipe so strongly and "hear" his thoughts and not anyone elses, like, say, Jazz, is because he merged his spark DIRECTLY. The others she had used her powers on, but not really "merged" with the Spark. Ratchet she did TOUCH, but used it to "take" rather than "merge" and "exchange". Jazz she brought the spark back, so she's better connected, but it wasn't a merging, either._

_Okay, so the Seeker babies. They are:THE AERIALBOTS! :D Yes, indeed, they are the infamous aerialbots from G1 and some part of the ROTF game, I believe. And since they are ROTF Aerialbots... I have lots of free reign, which means childish Seekers-who-annoy-Ratchet, tee hee. They've all been named and here's a quick guide to them:_

_Silverbolt - Light-gray_

_Slingshot - Reddish-brown_

_Air Raid - Green_

_Fireflight - Blue_

_Skydive - Almost-black_

_Ratchet's managed to keep his sanity somehow. Oh, and yes, I totally used that one chick and Micheal (HE RETURNS... for a short one-chapter cameo) to show that there are people who are OKAY with her being different. Not everyone is accepting of it, but there are some who are, especially her team. They'll always be there for her! :D_

_I think that's about covers it, but on a final note- CLIFFHANGER :D_

_Also sorry for long note I wanted to explain things way back when lmao_


	49. Famous Last Words

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Sam’s in trouble!” the redheaded young woman exclaimed yet again, this time up to the towering, blue-and-red Autobot Commander. Despite Sideswipe’s attempts to help ease her anxiety, the young woman could not be quelled, just as she had not been able to minutes early when she’d first made her claim to him and Ratchet. Thankfully, the medic understood at once that she was very much so serious and quickly contacted the commander. He didn’t even ask where the notion had come from, and she would have had a hard time explaining when she could barely remember the place she had pulled it out of. Still, she recalled the words clearly now, and they were a heavy weight upon her heart.

“You are certain?” Optimus Prime inquired, though his tone suggested he was already prepared to head out to defend the young man. Behind him, Jazz reached up to the side of his head, no doubt sending out a call for the troops to prepare.

She nodded, “Yes. I… I remember them talking about him. Megatron’s going to kill him!”

There was a tense, silent pause that passed between all of the mechs, save for Jazz, and Catherine fell under its spell, too, as she realized the full underlying meaning of her words. A wave of anger came from behind her—from Sideswipe, she knew—and the other two expressed similar notions on their faces for a moment before recovering.

“But why would they go after the boy?” Ratchet inquired.

“Because,” she began, pulling at the memory once more. “Because he has the knowledge—the _Allspark_ ’s knowledge.”

“ _What_?” Optimus, Ratchet, and Sideswipe asked in unison.

“How is that possible?” the medic inquired, shaking his head with disbelief.

“I-I… Well, I, mean, we _both_ held the Allspark when we used it,” the redhead started, trying to think back the past few years.

Ratchet rubbed his chin, “But for the knowledge and power to split?”

“Well, it ain’t with ‘Cat, an’ it ain’t the kinda stuff ta just disappear, an’ Sam did hold the Allspark, too, so is it really that hard ta believe it coulda happened?” Jazz proposed, and both Commander and medic glanced between him and each other. “An’ what are we standin’ here fo’? Don’t matter if he got the Allspark’s knowledge o’ not—Sam’s in trouble. We shouldn’t be wastin’ time here. We gotta go help ‘em out if Megatron is afta him.”

“Indeed,” Optimus nodded, but then became suddenly grim. “However, I fear our human allies will not allow us to leave so easily, and Bumblebee, while an adept warrior, cannot battle Megatron and his Decepticons alone.”

“You can’t just leave Sam or Bumblebee to die!” the redhead cried out, and Sideswipe reached through to calm her at once.

“And we will not. I owe both you and Sam my life. I will not abandon him, and I will not abandon my soldiers. If we must defy our human allies, then so be it, but if we may keep their trust and mount a rescue team, then I will do so,” the Autobot commander spoke calmly.

“I think we just might be able ta do that, Prime,” Jazz spoke, a slightly mischievous grin on his face. “If I recall correctly, Lennox an’ some ‘o the other humans were talkin’ ‘bout how they had some way ta come get ‘Cat if she hadn’t already come back when they visited.”

“You’re sure?” Optimus inquired, and the blue-and-white mech nodded. “Then I must speak with Commander Lennox at once. Prepare a team—we cannot take too many, but enough to hold back a decent Decepticon force long enough to get the boy to safety.”

“Already goin’, Prime, and I got ‘Hide ta send Lennox our way.”

The Commander nodded back briefly before returning his gaze to the redhead, “Do not worry, Catherine. I will not allow them to take Sam.”

“I know,” she replied, meeting his optics.

Then he left with Jazz following behind, leaving the three alone once more. Now, though, Catherine’s anxiety was lessened, and Sideswipe was already working to quell it further. It helped knowing Optimus would personally be going. She had no doubt the Prime could keep Sam safe from the Decepticons. Of course, she would still worry until she heard from the young man himself that he was okay, but at least now she was certain she _would_ hear it. With a sigh, she leaned back into the silver mech’s torso, relishing in the warmth thrumming from it.

 _He’ll be fine,_ she could hear his voice murmur softly, soothingly.

“Yeah, he will. I trust Prime,” she replied, letting her fingers run across the metal of his hand, which still held her. “Still, you know how it is. He’s family.”

_I understand. Do you want me to go with them?_

“No,” she said with earnest and without hesitation. “I need you here.”

A surge of calm flowed through her, _I’ll stay right here then._

She relaxed, and, after a moment, cracked a small smile, “You know… I am curious—how is that I know what you’re saying?

“The bond,” he replied aloud, grinning as he looked down at her. _You can read my Energon fluctuations as thoughts, just like I can yours, although not perfectly. You’ll get used to it… and better at it._

“Huh. Cool.”

“’Cool’? _That’s_ how you describe it?” he laughed, lifting her towards his face and setting her down on his torso.

“Well, obviously it’s more than that,” she chuckled back, and leaned forward to press her forehead against his. “You and I both can feel that. To be honest, though, I’m not exactly sure what to think about it.”

He frowned a little, _Something wrong? I can pull back a little if you need me too…_

“No, no, not that. It’s just…. I don’t know. It’s… _different_ , I guess. I mean, I need and I want it, but it’s different from anything I’d expected. I don’t know what to do.”

 _Well, first off, don’t worry about it,_ he chuckled. _Second, nothing’s really changed. Just think of it as us a lot closer and able to talk to each other without being near and in our heads—like I’m always with you now. Something like that._

“Okay, then. I wonder what everyone will think knowing you and I are bonded?” she hummed, and he gave her a smirk.

_They can think whatever the slag they want. And if they wanna make a scene, then they can talk to my blades._

“Oooh, someone’s getting a little protective.”

_I don’t like sharing what’s mine._

“’Yours’? Come now, Sideswipe. We all know _I_ own _you_.”

“Only sometimes,” he chuckled aloud, gently nudging the tip of his “nose” into hers. She giggled at the contact, but both paused when they heard a loud clang off to the side. They looked to find Ratchet staring at them—just plain _staring_. They kept their gazes locked for what felt a good long while before the medic finally shook his head and returned to the piece of equipment he’d drop. Human and Autobot looked to each other and laughed.

 _Feeling better, now?_ His voice purred, and she took a moment before giving him an “I-see-what-you-did-there” look.

“Yes, you clever bastard,” she hummed, setting her hands onto her hips. “But I’m still worried despite what your attempts.”

“I know, I know. I just wanted to make things easier. Works on my brother every time, too.”

“Speaking of him—what’s he going to think of this?”

_He’ll probably think it’s weird, but he’ll get over it. He’ll probably like you after a while, anyways—with or without my persuasion._

She hummed, “I see. You are the master of persuasion, after all. But, I guess we’ll get to that when he gets here.”

 _If the slagger will hurry up_ , he grinned. _He never was on time for anything._

She smiled back and then maneuvered so that she could situated herself on his shoulders, close enough to lean her back into the armor set against the side of his face. She could feel the Energon thrumming through the metal and spark pulsing beneath her. His feelings still ran through her, mixing with her own and—she knew—keeping back something very dark. She was glad for it, and let him do so along with speaking through their bond. She still didn’t fully know what to make of it or understood how it was possible or even what it really meant, but she was content, and that was enough.

They paused in their conversation when Ratchet’s clinking with his metal stopped. They watched as he stared off for a few moments—a sure sign of talking through the comm. link—and then set his nearly fully-repaired device down. He grumbled under his breath as he started pushing things into a corner pile and then head for the Medbay doors. He paused, though, remembering them, and said he was going to be gone for a few breems, to not make a mess, and to not—under any circumstances-- let the five Seekers in. Catherine just laughed and said she would try her best. He gave her a look in return that said if she didn’t he would _not_ be happy. He also told Sideswipe to get a meal for her soon and to have her rest when she felt tired, and that if she was up for it, let her walk around the base for exercise. The silver mech agreed, and the medic left.

The two grinned at one another, and Sideswipe suggested she actually summon the Seekers—just to piss the medic off, but she talked him out of it. Instead, she started to try and talk like he could; through the bond. It wasn’t as hard as she thought, but it took a few tries before she found what the silver mech was talking about. It was actually the same as reaching out through the bond like she had with her first four kids. The thought of them brought some sadness, which Sideswipe quickly soothed, but it wasn’t just him—she could feel the five Seekers helping her, too. She found she could “hear” them a little as well, although not as strongly as the silver mech.

She started to get better at it after a bit, but progress was delayed when the Medbay doors opened. However, it wasn’t Ratchet or any of the other two medics—it was Jazz. He wore his normal, happy face on, but Catherine couldn’t help but notice he _felt_ different. Sideswipe felt it, too, because he became tensed beneath her; protective. The blue-and-white mech must have noticed, because he kept back a respectful distance he normally would not have.

“You guys done talking?” the redhead began, hoping to break the ice.

“Prime n’ Lennox are doin’ alright on their own. Better if there ain’t too many ‘o us goin' ta keep some secrecy, ya know?” he replied, his tone the same as always. Again, she felt something was off, though not in a dangerous kind of way. It was something else.

“Oh, well, come to visit us then?” she smiled this time.

His faltered for a moment, “Somthin’ like that. I’d actually like ta talk ta alone fo’ a bit, ‘Cat.”

“Um… sure?” she replied, although Sideswipe tensed even more beneath her; uneasily this time. She reached out through the bond to reassure him, but he did not settle as she stood up. She could tell he was against it, but it was _Jazz_. There was nothing to worry about. Still, he was reluctant let her onto his hand and give her to the other mech, and she could feel an underlying hint of jealousy from his end as her brother took her out of the room, into the hall. There, Jazz held her up gently, but his gaze became somber and his face set into a slight frown.

“How are ya holdin’ up, shorty?”

“Um... Good. At least, I am now, anyways. Sideswipe’s helped a lot,” she replied, smiling at his name.

"Ya bonded, I see,” he mused, allowing a grin to flicker.

She grinned back, “So you noticed. Yeah, apparently. I guess he skipped the ‘fight-his-way-through-you’ part, though.”

“I’ll let it slide this time. I’m more concerned about ya, ‘Cat.”

“Well, I told you I’m okay. Right now, anyways.”

“An’ that’s what I’m worryin’ ‘bout. What happened to ya, ‘Cat? What did the ‘Cons do ta ya?” he asked, his optics dimming and his voice growing soft— worried.

She opened her mouth, but then closed it, frowning. Her mind naturally moved to explain, but as soon as it thought back to the most prevalent memory—of the towering, silent mech taking her from the base—an overwhelming fear gripped her chest, tightening it, and making her heart beat wildly. Any image after that moment was pervaded with a terrifying darkness that lashed out at her, but was fought back by the other side of her bonds. Sideswipe and her five children struck against it, and the fear subsided. She knew the silver mech was ready to come bursting out from the doors, and that the Seekers were ready to come burling down the hall to get to her and protect her, but she kept them at bay, assuring them she was fine.

“Catherine?” Jazz called out, the young redhead having gone rigid in his hand. She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly.

“Sorry, Jazz. I… I can’t…” she began, eyes scrunching to keep from thinking about the memories.

“I know. I know, but… Ya gotta. Ya need ta tell me what happened.”

“I…” she spoke weakly, trying again, but the fear kept her at bay once more. “I _can’t_ , Jazz. I can’t. I don’t... I don’t want to. Please—don’t make me.”

The mech sighed, and held her gently, stroking her back.

“I’m sorry, ‘Cat. Ya don’t have ta,” he spoke softly, and then added at a whisper, “It just woulda made things easier.”

“I’m sorry,” she started, but Jazz shook his head, smiling warmly.

“Naw, don’t be. It was too much o’ me ta ask ya that. _I’m_ sorry, ‘Cat. I won’t ask ya again, don’t worry.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe I can know one day… but right now… I just… I feel… I feel _infected_ when I try to think of it. I don’t… I don’t want to remember that.”

“Then don’t. I don’t want ya ta have ta go through it again.”

She managed a smile, “Yeah. Me to… So. Um… Do you know what’s going on for Sam?”

"Prime n’ Lennox are already getting’ the teams together, and we got a crew that’ll fly ‘em in all secret like. With Galloway not here, it’s easier for us ta sneak out. He’s got his ‘eyes’, but we gotta older plane stashed away on the Autobot side that’ll help. We ain’t gonna take too many ‘o us, either, so as ta not rouse any o’ the humans.”

“That, uh, sounds good. I’m glad. Just… Just hurry, okay? I don’t know if the ‘Cons are here or not or how much longer they have to wait, but they’re coming. I know they are.”

“We already told ‘Bee, n’ he’s on his way, but gonna lay low until we or the ‘Cons get there. We’ll get Sam safe n’ sound. You can count on that. Though, it’s lookin’ like the earliest we can head out is two days. We need ta prep everythin’ and keep plannin’ our getaway, but we’ll get it. Ya just need ta take ya time n’ get better.”

“Good. Good,” Catherine nodded. “And I will. I’m really not that bad. I can probably get out of the Medbay soon.”

“’Atta girl. Nuthin’ can’t keep ya down, yeah? Ya might wanna hide in the Medbay fo’ a while, though.”

She winced, “Ah. Not exactly a warm welcome back for me, huh?”

“Ya could call it that. But don’t ya worry yaself. We got ya back, ‘Cat. All o’ us Autobots, n’ ya even got yaself some ‘o the human on ya side. Ya know Lennox and ya team is with ya.”

“That is good… I guess I didn’t think about it, but you’re right… I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. I just hope they’ll listen…”

“If it’s you, you’ll find a way ta convince ‘em. Or at least enough ‘o them ta keep too much trouble from comin’ our way.”

“You know, this is a terrible way of comforting and trying to cheer me up,” she mused wryly, and the mech chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess it is. How ‘bout I give ya back ta ya new Spark Mate?” he smiled, a mischievous twinkly in his optics.

“I imagine you’re going to tease me about that for a while. Does anyone else know?”

“Prime n’ a few other high-rankin’ officers know. Just the important mechs n’ femmes.”

She laughed a little, “Not too bad. I imagine the others will know soon enough. And I wouldn’t mind being back with Sideswipe. He’s probably hovering at the door, waiting.”

“Looks like I’m gonna have trouble spendin’ time with ya,” Jazz winked as he turned and headed back for the Medbay.

“So you don’t find it weird that me n’ him are ‘bonded’?”

“Naw. You n’ me have a bond, n’ you’ve always had a bond with ya creations, so it ain’t nothin’ ta be considerin’ strange.”

“Glad my big brother approves then.”

He raised an optic ridge, “I didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout approvin’… but I just might with how ya two are doin’.”

“Aww, well, thank-you, Jazz,” she laughed. He chuckled with her as he opened the door, and while he wasn’t directly at the door, Sideswipe was off one of the tables, standing like he had been pacing. A frown was on his face as he regarded the blue-and-white mech coolly, but he calmed once Catherine was in his hands. She felt her body relax on its own as he strengthened the flow of comfort through the bond. Her big brother left them then, closing the door behind him, where he paused to stare down at the ground. His optics dimmed as he sighed deeply.

Clenching his fingers, he cursed softly, turned, and left.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Luckily, it turned out to only take one full day before the Autobots were able to begin their mission. It had taken some clandestine movements and a lot of that luck to do it. Galloway being gone was one of the big things, and the fact his “eyes” were busy arguing with General Morshower or weren’t in themselves. Furthermore, it was decided it would be a mostly Autobot-only mission with only a small crew manned by Lennox and his team and the plane crew. To help out, Lennox made sure most everyone was busy doing something, and left one of their more trusted soldiers in charge and with an excuse on where they were. It all went off with a hitch and a team of the humans, Optimus, Ironhide, Chromia, Jolt, and Ratchet, Jazz, and the Twins—chosen to keep their loud mouths from giving anything away. They would land on an American base run by friends of Lennox who were a sure-in not to let anything slide about the secret mission. No questions were asked, and within a few hours the Autobots would land, head off for Princeton College, and Bumblebee would meet them along the way.

Catherine, meanwhile, stayed within the Medbay. Sideswipe, however, was finally ushered away to go about his own duties, though he made sure he was always reaching out for her. Thankfully, his absence was made less of a heavy toll by the occasional visit by a few human soldiers—some from before, others new—and also the presence of her five Seeker children. While the Chief Medical Officer had come to detest their crowding his room, he knew they were necessary and so allowed them to be there when the silver mech was gone and when he wasn’t there. However, they were to leave should First Aid say so, and Catherine made sure to enforce this decree. They grumped about it, but agreed, and made sure to be with her as much as possible even when Sideswipe wasn’t around—Not unlike how they were at the moment, huddled around their red-headed creator.

“So, that Prime guy says we can join, but that we need alternate forms. What’s wrong with the ones we have now?” the blue-armored Seeker, Fireflight, huffed.

“Yeah. The ones they showed us are so… _old_ looking. We’re waaaaay cooler!” Slingshot, the reddish-brown flier smirked, shifting his wings as he puffed up his chest for show.

“That may be so,” Catherine began, turning to face them with her hands on her hips, “but your Cybertronian forms do not fit in on Earth. You’d stand out like a sore thumb, and your presence is supposed to be a secret from all the other humans.”

Air Raid folded his green-armored arms, “Pfff. That’s so stupid. I don’t see why we can’t just show them we exist. From what I saw, the humans would _love_ to meet us. They’re all about the possibility of alien life.”

“You forget that we also saw they are generally _hostile_ to alien life. If they found out we exist there would be much pandemonium. It is ultimately much better that we remain a secret, brothers,” Silverbolt spoke up, his light-gray form shining like a burning beacon of goodness.

“Showing ourselves would still be better. Then we wouldn’t have to be on this stupid island and we could fly around whenever and wherever we wanted,” Skydive pouted, almost-black wing drooping.

Catherine shrugged, “Maybe one day, but not today. It takes time for people to get used to new things, and you’re _alien_ new. Not to mention humanity has been attacked by others of your kind. It makes it hard for them to understand not all of you are bad.”

“I still don’t think we should change are alternate forms,” Fireflight grumbled, hunching down like a grumpy child.

“Oh, come now—our aerial crafts aren’t that bad!” their mother exclaimed, and the five glanced between one another.

Slingshot scratched his helmet, “Well… I mean… I guess that Raptor one looked okay.”

“I kinda liked the Falcon one,” Skydive mumbled.

Fireflight continued to huff, “The Phantom plane was alright…”

“The Eagle looked pretty fast,” Air Raid hummed. “Might be good enough.”

“The F-14 Tomcat seemed like it could fit my larger form,” Silverbolt spoke up last, and they looked to the redhead, whom nodded.

“Sounds good. We’ll just have to get them here for you to scan, which may be a while, so you can be happy to know you’ll probably have your normal forms for a bit longer,” she laughed, and her five Seekers smiled at one another with relief.

“Prime said he would try to do something about it once he got back,” Skydive stated, and besides him, Air Raid frowned.

“Why didn’t they bring us with them? We could’ve gotten there way faster than they did.”

“Well, this was a rescue mission that needed a lot of secrecy. You would have stood out too much,” she replied, and Slingshot went next.

“And who was this ‘Sam’ guy they’re going after? And what’s he gotta do with you, ‘cause you get all weird when you talk about him,” he asked, jealousy evident in his tone.

She chuckled, “Sam’s my best friend, boys. He’s family, too—like a brother to me, which means he’s your Uncle so you should care about what happens to him, too.”

“Oh,” Fireflight hummed as he and the other’s relaxed. “Well, that’s okay then. As long as he wasn’t another guy like that Sideswipe dude. I hate how he’s always spending time with you and we _never_ get any! It’s not fair!”

“I told you,” Catherine began, laughing, “Sideswipe’s special to me. He… He’s like… Well, I guess you could say he’s like how I am to you. I guess. I mean, he’s not quite that, but… um… Yeah. This is getting hard to explain.”

“I still don’t like him,” the blue-armored Seeker seethed, and the others seemed much the same except for Silverbolt whom kept a normal expression on his face.

“Excuse me,” a seventh voice spoke up, and all turned to find the red-and-white medic First Aid behind them, a scanning device in his hands. “Have you five been scanned recently by Ratchet? I don’t see anything in the records, but it might be because he didn’t write a report yet.”

“Oh. No, actually, we haven’t. We’ve been so busy with speaking with Prime or with Mother, that we haven’t interacted with him all that much,” the light-gray Seeker replied as he stepped forward.

“Ah. Then would you mind if I do so now? As you are going to be Autobots, we make it a point to have a medical record for each of our soldiers and have regular scans,” First Aid smiled, and while Silverbolt nodded, the others behind him groaned. He hushed them with a look while Catherine laughed, and soon enough they got into a line allowing the medic begin his job. It only took a few minutes and then they were huddled around her once again, grumbling about having to do all these things they didn’t want to and that they were possibly thinking or reconsidering about being Autobots if they had to do all of said crap.

“Huh,” First Aid began as he went over the results. “I didn’t believe it at first, but… you really _are_ barely a week old. This… This is amazing. Unbelievable, even. You should still be in your youngling stage, but you are all full-fledged mechs— _Seeker_ mechs no less! Catherine, your abilities are astounding!”

“Thank-you, although I wish it had happened under better circumstances,” she replied, wincing a little, and the medic flinched at once.

“Oh! I am so sorry! I meant no offense or harm!” he squeaked, but was waved off with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, ‘Aid. All that matters is that they’re here and they’re all alright.”

“Indeed they are. They’re in essentially perfect shape.”

“You doubted?” Slingshot smirked from behind the others, and while three of his brothers shared the expression Silverbolt flashed him a “be quiet” look, as did Catherine, and so the reddish-brown Seeker hunkered back down, pouting.

“Well, I’ll start compiling the report then and set up when your next checkup will be. Feel free to hang around as long as you want. You’ll find I’m more tolerant than Ratchet,” the medic smiled, a hint of jest in his tone, which brought a grin to the redhead’s face. Of course, the five Seekers were quick to take up the opportunity. Indeed, the younger medic was _far_ more tolerant than his superior—he’d hadn’t made a single complaint or single face at them. Rather, he seemed amused by it all, and that made things much easier on all of them.

They managed to make the best of their free time for almost half an hour before First Aid suddenly dropped his tool and went rigid. All six of his guests stared, confused, and watched as his mouth dropped and then he took off out of the Medbay. Not a moment later, she felt a similar emotion flow from her bond—from Sideswipe. Something had happened. Something bad. It made her heart race a little, and she had to ask what happened.

 _It’s Prime,_ the silver mech replied at once. _He’s… He’s been offlined._

A cold wave went through Catherine’s frame as her eyes widened. Before the Seekers could ask, she ordered them to take her to the Command Center at once. There was no arguing with her tone; no questions allowed; no refusals. They didn’t even bother to try as Silverbolt held out his hand and took off, the others close behind. With the Seeker carrying her it only took a few moments to get out to the main corridor between sides. Already she could see Autobots from the base rushing towards the same direction and so they joined them. Confusion, shock, and disbelief ran rampant through the ranks, but it wasn’t just the Autobots—humans were running around as if there had just been alarm. Granted, she had heard about the Autobot S.O.S that had gone off some times ago, but she didn’t think it had been so _serious_.

Sideswipe appeared a moment later, and she and her Seekers joined him on the way to the Command Center, taking the beach-side path along with other Autobots. When they reached the area, she had Silverbolt put her down near the stairs, which she raced up. She received some surprised looks from those who had not seen her in some time nor expected to. The Autobots that had come were standing together in their normal area, although the Seekers and Sideswipe were closer to her.

“What happened? Do we have contact with the team?” she demanded from the communications officers, hovering over them to try and see for herself. Although she was no longer liaison nor had any actual authority, the soldiers adhered to her request.

“Contact ended just a few minutes ago with Commander Lennox,” the one on her left noted, and she turned to the young women.

“What did he say? What happened?”

“Uh, the Commander reported that the Autobots engaged the Decepticon at sixteen hundred hours and were successful in the mission, but that, um… Optimus Prime is deceased.”

Catherine pulled back then, biting her lip, and cursing loudly in her head. The communication officers looked back, concerned, but refrained from asking out of respect. The redhead recovered quickly and leaned forward once more.

“What’s their ETA? And what of the other Autobots and soldiers?”

“They should be arriving at the British NEST base in a few minutes. All NEST human forces are accounted for, as well as Autobots. They should be able to return home within six hours.” 

“Okay. Okay. That’s some good news. Any other news we should be worried about?”

“Not that we’re aware of, ma’am. Would you like to be kept updated?”

Catherine nodded, “Yes. I need to be informed of anything new. Check for Decepticon activity as well. They might be making a move now. If you can, get me in contact with General Morshower so we can know what’s happening on his end.”

“Ma’am!” the officer saluted and she, along with the others, went to work, while the redhead moved away to the railing where Sideswipe and the Seekers waited. She ran a hand through her hair, and listened to their soothing words, but it wasn’t much help. She knew the silver mech was grieving already, and her children didn’t quite fully yet understand the gravity of the situation. She looked past them to the other Autobots, whom were huddled about, talking amongst themselves lowly and with worried looks. She imagined many of them couldn’t believe what was happened, and didn’t _want_ to believe. How could _Optimus Prime_ be dead? It didn’t seem possible! It couldn’t have been possible! But it had been confirmed. Yet, it just couldn’t be!

“God, please tell me this is a bad, bad dream,” she sighed, letting her head fall back a little.

_I wish that were the case, but every time I ask, everyone keeps confirming the same thing. He gave his life to protect Sam._

She closed her eyes, “God dammit… Sam’s safe, but Prime… Shit.”

The silver mech reached out through the bond again, but he and everyone else paused in their workings as a large group of government-issued helicopters appeared from around the side of the building and lowered down to the landing pad. Catherine’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the machine, and headed down the stairs while other soldiers looked on wearily. Sideswipe and her Seekers followed close behind as she stormed out there, ready to demand what they wanted. If it had been Galloway who came out of the craft, she was sure she would have punched him without caring, but the men that appeared were just his political goons dressed in their suits. Unfortunately, they were also joined by a large number of armed guards. The two main men regarded her coolly and without much care. She imagined they would have preferred an officer such as Lennox, but she figured they thought she would work well enough despite being “suspended”.

“NEST is hereby deactivated,” the tallest, most prominent man spoke, staring down at her. A few soldiers had followed her out, and now gasped and looked at one another with disbelief. “Any anti-Decepticon operations are to be ceased and you will remain here at Diego Garcia to await further orders.”

“I’m sorry but _we_ take orders from General Morshower, _sir_ ,” she hissed back, but the man merely sneered for a brief moment.

“You also take them from the President of the United Sates who have given us command over this operation, and as such, we are _commanding_ you to cease operations and stand by, _Ms. Wolf_.”

“On what grounds?” she growled, and the man’s face grew dark.

“On the ground of failure and endangering the Earth! This petty alien fight your ‘Autobots’ have brought to this planet has cost us blood that our soldiers have paid. And now the secret is out, Ms. Wolf. The world knows about the aliens, and now we _humans_ will take matters into our own hands to protect _our_ planet.”

“And you think grounding the Autobots—the only _real_ potential defense against the Decepticons, who, may I remind you, are the _real_ enemy—is a good idea? The only thing that’ll do is ensure our defeat!”

“Regardless, that is no longer your concern,” the man barked and turned to the soldiers around him. “Arrest Ms. Wolf and see to it she is detained separately from the other aliens.”

“ _What_?” she shrieked, backing away as a few of the soldiers stepped forward to obey the command. The world just about exploded as the wheeled feet of Sideswipe shot in front of her, and two blades appeared, aimed at the nearest soldiers. Joining them were an arsenal of weapons as the five Seekers aimed their weapons while forming a protective circle around her. The men’s own armada took aim, their guns clicking, ready to fire. NEST soldiers around who had their weapons readied them, while the others either tensed and or raised their arms for a ceasefire. Within the building, the other Autobots became alarmed and rushed out along with other humans, shouting out.

“Desist at once!” the man howled, and jabbed a finger at Catherine. “Tell them to lower their weapons now, Ms. Wolf, or I will consider the Autobots enemies of humanity and have them put down permanently!”

“Try it. I dare you,” Sideswipe snarled darkly, raising a blade to the man.

“No! Sideswipe, stop!” Catherine shouted, rushing out to touch his arm. The silver mech looked at her, confused and silently refusing her demand. She was in danger, and he would not let these fraggers touch her. Her Seeker children were much the same, and the other Autobots were ready to protect their kin, too. She shook her head at him, though, telling him to back down over the bond.

While she would have loved nothing more than to see the man erased from the planet, she knew it would not be a good idea. She did not want to be arrested, either, but the man’s words weren’t just some casual or weightless threat. This man could ruin them, and she could not let that happen. Optimus Prime was already dead. Neither Lennox nor Morshower or her team was here to help her. She was the only real “authoritative” voice at the moment thanks to the residual influence from her time as a liaison. It was up to her to ensure things went smoothly and safely for everyone here. Even if it meant doing something she didn’t want or what wasn’t right or was epitome of stupid.

“All of you—power down your weapons. Now,” she ordered Sideswipe and her Seekers. They were reluctant to do so, but after a long, tense moment, they did so. The other Autobots behind them followed in suit, but the soldier goons kept their weapons aimed. The man smirked though, seeing he had won as the redhead turned towards him and nodded once, holding out her hands.

With a simple gesture, the soldiers got to work, turning the redhead around to cuff her while the Autobots were herded back into the base. All the while, Catherine cursed the man and fate’s toll, and she sincerely hoped that Lennox was doing much better on his end.

Unfortunately, she had the sinking feeling it wasn’t, and that things were only going to get worse.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**TMWolf:** _WHOOT. SO. YEAH. KINDA CLIFFHANGER. BAD NEWS IN GENERAL, ANYWAYS. You know what I found out re-watching ROTF? That when they drop Prime off they're not at Diego Garcia. I have no idea why, but I always thought Lennox and the Autobots were at Diego Garcia when Galloway deactivated them. Yeah, they weren't. They were actually in like New Jersey or something, but not Diego Garcia xD;; Sooo. Oops. Anyways, I imagine most of you wanted Galloway here to be the one with Cybertronian weapons pointed at them, but it's not. Sorry! xD;; It originally was going to be, but then, again, I realized that Lennox/Autobots weren't at Diego Garcia, lol~_

_So._

_Sam's safe, but Prime's dead! Well._ Slag. _Things are not looking good! They're being deactivated, too! And now Catherine's been arrested! D: How could it get any worse?_

_A lot. Knowing me ;) Anyways, the next chapter is the big final battle of this "arc", so to speak. You could call it an "arc" anyways. Prepare for a long chapter with lots of action and some plot twists and major changes and death! Lots and lots of death! 8D I don't really have too much else to say about this chapters. Hope you guys enjoyed that last bit of fluff! It's all you get for a couple of chapters! c: Also, more Seeker adorableness this chapter, which, like Catswipe, is not around for the next few chapters. But it will return, I assure you!_

_Until next chapter! :D_


	50. The Sun's Gone Dim and the Sky's Turned Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final battle against the Fallen commences, and not everyone will make it out alive....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song if from the Battle LA Trailer

Catherine looked at her shackled hands, the gray metal dark in the dim light. She didn’t know how long it’d been seen the government soldiers had closed the door behind her, effectively sealing her within one of the handful of cells they had on the base—used mostly in the event of court martial or temporarily holding criminals. It couldn’t have been too long, but it was enough time to let her think long and hard, and the thought most prevalent was that she should have screwed over her earlier reasoning, socked the man in the face, and let the Autobots blow them sky-high.

She sighed, not for the first or the last time. Despite everything, she knew she had made the right decision. Or, at least, that Lennox, Morshower, and Marissa would have approved, but maybe not liked. While fighting back was the much preferred action, that would have only sealed their fate in the President’s eyes, and ultimately, that of humanity. And it was for that reason that, if her incarceration meant the Autobots retained a chance of being considered the good guys and allies, then she would let it happen.

Of course, with Prime deceased, the chances were growing sickeningly grim. The Autobot leader had become a kind of figure-head, and with his loss the Autobots would no longer be held in the same regard. Most likely they would be considered a renegade group of potentially hostile, alien robots that could easily turn on the human race. That was a load of complete bullshit, and almost the whole of NEST knew it, but the ordinary citizen did not and would easily be fooled by the government.

She hoped the other Autobots were behaving at least. Sideswipe and her Seekers, she knew, were ready to blow. She’s already received many threats of busting down the wall and getting her out, but she had make doubly sure that they would _not_ do that. The silver mech was actually easier to quell than her children, whom did not want to care about the consequences. Eventually, she finally made them stop and listen to the other Autobots, and now she only occasionally heard them through the bond, although felt them all the time.

They sometimes gave her updates of what was happening; Galloway’s men had littered the Command Center with their goons, and while the NEST soldiers were being allowed to go about their day, they were under strict, armed watch. The Autobots were worse off—they’d all been huddled into a single hanger and were being watched by even more heavily armed guards. Apparently Elita-1 and Smokescreen had taken charge and kept everyone in line, for which she was thankful. Things were tense enough that one wrong move with start slag blowing up. Regardless, the mech and femme were doing a good job, and she had yet to hear one explosion.

Hopefully her confinement would be ended once Lennox arrived, but where that end might take her… she didn’t know. A small fear grew within her at the possibilities; she had surmised Galloway’s men had not considered her human anymore by the subtle hints in their speech. There was no telling who else felt the same, but if enough higher ups did, she might be forced into something she did not like, and knew if that did happen, she could not stop Sideswipe nor her kids from acting. Depending on what it was, she wasn’t sure she would try to stop them, either. She could only hope that she would be given a chance to explain everything—to finally tell the whole truth about what had happened, and show them that the Autobots were their allies and they all could be trusted.

For now, though, she was going to have to continue waiting and thinking.

_If only Prime hadn’t died_ , she mused miserably. A burst of comfort came through, which she thanked Sideswipe for, but kept from completely going through her. There was no time for that, though it was nice. Indeed, if Prime hadn’t died, things would no doubt be better.

Of course, she’d considered the option of reviving him. She wasn’t afraid to show her powers now, so if she got to him it wouldn’t be a problem. However, getting to him _was_. To just reach Prime, she was sure she’d have to fight tooth and nail through the government soldiers and would probably need Autobot assistance, which, obviously, would not make things easier for them. There was also the issue of energy. While she had made _five_ new Seeker mechs, she didn’t know or remember how—she didn’t want to—and she would not use anyone else’s spark to do so. She had no doubts they would all give their spark for him, but she wouldn’t do that. _Ever_.

It just seemed hopeless from where she was, and she often thought of letting the memories from her capture come back just so she could figure out how she had made her five kids, but the underlying _thing_ that existed in those memories kept her from it. She just _couldn’t_ go back to that place. She hadn’t been lying when she’d spoken to Jazz; whenever she tried to touch the memories it was like something vile was being injected into her veins. She felt disgusting and—and like she was losing a part of herself. The only reason it never got any further was because Sideswipe and her boys were there to push it back. Whatever she had done to make the Seekers was going to have to remain lost, along with any way to revive Prime without killing someone else.

She let her head fall back against the wall with a sigh as she wondered how things could have gotten so bad. Prime was dead. She was a prisoner. The Autobots were basically imprisoned and finished. The Decepticons were beginning their attack. At least Sam was okay—she was able to smile at that. It had thankfully been confirmed he was okay, and that was a relief. She wished such terrible consequences hadn’t happened because of it, but one couldn’t change the past. She just hoped the kid stayed out of trouble. If she knew Sam, though, that was no doubt a fruitless hope, but if he was with an Autobot—especially Bumblebee—then he should be okay. The yellow, black-striped mech would keep her best friend safe, although he was a trouble maker, too.

Her thoughts were interrupted suddenly, when she heard the echoes of what sounded uncannily like gun blast or possibly an explosion. She frowned, sitting up, and tried to concentrate on the sound. There was also a strange rush of excitement and determination from the other ends. She had no doubts something was going on, but what? She only hoped Elita-1 and Smokescreen had done the right thing. Another echo and she frowned. Something was definitely going on.

She stood up this time and headed for the door, aiming to bang on it and get the guards to answer her questions. That plan went to the pits when a sharpened end suddenly stabbed through the wall. She reared back, surprised, and watched as it ran straight down, vanished, then reappeared at the original slot, went right and then down. She already knew who it was by this point, but she still raised a brow and grinned when the four-fingered hand gripped the slashed sides and ripped the cutout free.

“Happy to see me?” Sideswipe inquired a little too smugly as he held out his hand.

She snorted as she stepped on, “I was actually enjoying my alone time until you so rudely interrupted. Can you do anything about the cuffs?”

“Sure; hold still,” he replied, and then sliced through the chain daintily, as if it were made from butter. “Now let’s get out of here before those humans come back.”

“What’s going on?” she asked while stepping onto his shoulder and grasping the armor panels.

He raced off around the corner quickly, “We’re going to Egypt, that’s what.”

“Lennox has a plan? ‘Because you guys breaking out is not looking good for your reputation at all. I kind of let them take me so they would think we were cooperating, you know,” she frowned, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

“Don’t worry about that. And yes, he does. We’re going to hijack a plane and head to Egypt. Apparently Sam’s found a way for you to bring back Prime and that’s where’s he’s at, so we’ve got to get you to him.”

“Sam’s in _Egypt_?! How the hell did that happen?!”

“Pit if I know. ‘Bee confirmed it, though, and told us he found ‘something’, but he went under radio silence for safety after that. It’s a long story, but just know that we got to get you to him to bring Prime back.”

“Okay,” she nodded, but paused as she clung tighter while the silver mech turned sharper than usual around a corner. Around them, NEST human soldiers were moving and were armed. The explosions were louder now, but not very frequent. “What’s with the explosions?”

“We haven’t harmed anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he began, grinning a little. “But we have to give those slaggers ‘watching’ us a reason to surrender. Some are being more stubborn than we’d like, but it’ll be over soon and then _they’ll_ be the prisoners.”

“So long as they’re not harmed. I want to have plenty of faces to pummel,” she huffed, pounding her fist into her open palm. “Although I’ll want to get these cuffs completely off. Unfortunately, you’re blades are a little too big. By the way, where are we even heading?”

He chuckled, “We’re heading to a hangar on our side where there’s planes and crews waiting to take us to Egypt. We’re also getting you some armor and weapons.”

“Oh shit. Decepticons have been spotted?” she frowned, and he, unfortunately, nodded.

“A lot of them are headed there. Don’t worry, though—we’ll cover you all the way, and the Seekers will be taking you, too. I don’t like not being right with you, but Elita-1 had a point. They’ll keep you safer than in a cargo plane.”

“They do love their mother,” she hummed, though the silver mech snorted with a hint of annoyance. In the same instance, an idea came to mind and she touched his cheek. “Actually, take me by my room real quick. I still have those blades you made me there. I can use them to get the cuffs off, and they’ll probably come in handy.”

The silver mech nodded, and soon enough they were crossing to the Autobot side and then they were at her room. There were no more explosions, but she imagined there was still much quarreling. She let it slide by as she hurried into her room, shuffled through her drawers to where’d she hidden the weapons, used them to cut the cuffs, and then hurried back out. Then they were off again.

She noticed there was a lack of visitors in the halls, and he informed her that most of the human soldiers would be staying on base, keeping in contact with Morshower while also guarding the government men in the Command Center, which was where he figured they were all at already. Only a handful would come with them; one, to pilot the ship, and, two, because Lennox had requested back up for the fight. There were also a good number of Autobots that would be staying as well, to help with guarding, and also in the event Decepticons attacked. The rest would be heading to Egypt to help with the fight.

“Sideswipe! Catherine! You made it! Good!” Elita-1 shouted once they rolled into the hanger. Already two planes had been gathered together, and both Autobot and soldiers were loading up. The femme rolled over to point them towards the closest aircraft. “Take her there; one of Bluestreak’s teams got her some armor and weapons. You’ll ride in that craft as well, Sideswipe. Catherine, I’ve ordered the Seekers to return, and they will be here shortly. You’ll ride with Silverbolt. Hurry up, though. We need to leave quickly.”

Both mech and human nodded, and he ushered her over to the plane where he set her down. Waiting were familiar faces—the very same set whom had joined her for their live-match training. She was glad to see them after so long, as were they, but it was cut short by the necessity of time. She quickly got dressed, taking off her original shirt and pulling the armor-one over her under armor. The rest soon followed, though she had to shuffle out of sight for the pants. When she was all set, she looked ready to go through training. All the soldiers around her were the same, and soon she was fitted with an appropriate weapon. She secretly hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but she knew now was not a time where she could uphold such vows. The Decepticons would be out to kill her friends, her children, and Sideswipe, while also trying to capture her and Sam, which would lead to their deaths as well. Mercy was something she could not afford, regardless if they were Cybertronian and she was the Allspark.

“All set?” the leader of Bluestreak’s group, Rick, inquired, and she nodded. “Good. You’re ride is here, Ms. VIP. You get to ride jet style.”

Sure enough, a group of five jets appeared from the skies, hovering briefly before transforming and landing with ease. They spotted her at once—not that they needed to see her to find her—and began to hurry over, though were careful not to step or bump into anyone.

“Makes me jealous of the fighter pilots. They get to fly jets from here to Egypt instead of into the cargo bay,” Amelio, the short, dark-haired man, huffed.

“Fly safe, Catherine. It’s up to you to bring the Big Bot back,” Saachi added, giving the girl a two-fingered salute as Silverbolt knelt down to lift her up.

She nodded, “You guys stay safe, too, and kick some ‘Con ass.”

‘ _We’ll watch out for them,’_ she heard Sideswipe say, and she glanced over to nod and smile at him as well. Her children gave similar sentiments, although only about keeping _her_ safe, and griping about how Silverbolt was the one who got to carry her. That eventually died off in favor of waiting for everyone to finish loading. It honestly wasn’t that long of a wait—barely even ten minutes—but they still complained all the way until the cargo planes took off. She was in Silverbolt’s cockpit by then, and couldn’t help but wonder why he had a spot for a human only for a moment. She ended up letting it go as he pulled his restraints over her chest while his body shifted and changed shape, turning into his aerial form.

She was in darkness at first, but the cover of the cockpit moved a few seconds later and she could see that they were in the air. She opened her mouth in awe, having not felt him take off at all. Around them, the other four Seekers flew in a circle-like formation, and chatter was going on through the bond. Silverbolt used his comm. link, too, allowing her to hear it normally. She let herself smile at the banter, and then looked around for the cargo planes. They were easy enough to find—off towards the left at a safe distance from her Seekers. She knew which one carried Sideswipe at once; her bond leading her eyes towards the rightmost-one.

She reached out and the distance between them became nonexistent. It was comforting, especially in the event of what was to come. And once she thought of it, she couldn’t stop. They were heading into battle again. It was Mission City all over… only worse.

There was more at stake here, and they didn’t have Optimus Prime to take on Megatron. Not yet, anyways. She just had to get to Sam, but getting to him was as much of a problem as getting to Prime. She didn’t even see how there could be anything with remotely enough energy to let her create a new spark, but, then again, Sam had the Allspark knowledge. It was possible he knew because of that, and so she let herself have faith in her friend’s “something”. They only had to stay alive to find each other, and she sincerely hoped they did so before the world went to Hell. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

They reached the dunes of Egypt soon enough, and even before they began their landing she could see the motionless form of Optimus Prime covered by a tarp in the sand, and the small ant-sized figures of the other NEST soldiers all around him, led by Lennox. They had taken up their stand in a small village that looked more like a ruins. Some civilians were there, but they were being hurried away to safety. It was then that they began their descent. Or, her Seekers did. While the five aerial mechs slowly lowered down to the ground, the occupants of the cargo plane had to parachute off, Autobots included. They all did so systematically and quickly, and they were on the ground only minutes after Silverbolt let her out.

“Lennox!” she called out, spotting her adoptive father, and hurried through the sand to reach him. He raced to meet her, embracing her in a quick hug—it was all that could be allowed at the moment—and brought her to the other members of her team, who welcomed her in similar ways.

“Glad you guys made it,” Lennox grinned, gesturing to the oncoming reinforcements. She looked back at them, grinning as well, and watched as the humans greeted friends and comrades, and the Autobots did the same or came up before Optimus to mourn in what little time they had to do so.

“We would have been here sooner, but we have to start a revolt first,” she mused, and more than a few brows were raised.

“Man, and I thought we had it bad just trying to get that asshole off the plane,” David replied, shaking his head. “Which was _hilarious_ by the way, Lennox.”

The commander grinned, “Why thank-you, but we’ll exchange the stories later. We’ve got to keep prepping for Sam and the Decepticons.”

“Man, we just dropped off ten tons of dead robot in the middle of nowhere,” Epps spoke up, hand tightening around his gun as he looked around, unsure. “I hope the kid know what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Lennox sighed, and Catherine looked at both of them firmly.

“He will,” she told them. “Just get me to him, and we can get Optimus back.”

“If you say so, _chica_ ,” Fig hummed, hefting his rocket launcher over his shoulder. “He just better not bring us a shitload ‘a bad bots with him.”

_No guarantees_ , she thought secretly, and then they were all moving.

Lennox had two teams of snipers take to the rooftops to watch the landscape for Sam—specifically for Bumblebee and the Twin’s vehicle forms. They hurried off at once. Next were the fighting teams; placed around the village as a barrier with Prime at the center. Non-armored soldiers were kept back for a second line and mostly ranged attacks, while those with proper armor took the front unless they were like Bluestreak’s team, meant for sniping. Ironhide and Jazz took over Autobot leadership and had his 'bots take up stations with the groups they had been working with, although Sideswipe was allowed to stick by Catherine, whom was stationed near Prime along with Lennox and her team. Jazz also took up the same position, ready to protect the redhead and their deceased leader. The five Seekers were sent on aerial scouting, much to their annoyance. They stopped their complaints at their mother’s behest, and took to the skies to help look for Sam and for the enemy.

Silence ensued for the entire area as they waited, the heat of the sun bearing down on their back and forming globs of sweat that soaked their clothes while the sand-riddled wind nipped at their faces. She could tell most everyone was antsy, by why shouldn’t they be? While the enemy hadn’t shown itself in some time, it was obvious they would soon enough. They didn’t have any definitive proof besides ‘Bee’s word, but anyone in the midst of the ruins could just _feel_ it. It wasn’t explainable—you just knew they were coming. That, of course, only made things worse, and made their hands itchy. Thankfully, not itchy enough to take off frightened shots. The Autobots were faring much the same—particularly her children, whom were becoming tired of flying and wanted to blow something up instead.

“C’mon, Sam,” she murmured after a while, pushing off of Sideswipe’s wheel.

‘ _He’ll be here,’_ the silver mech hummed, and she nodded.

‘ _I know. I know it’s just—I’m ready to start shooting rocks right now,’_ she frowned, and he chuckled.

‘ _That’s my job.’_

She grinned back up at him and then turned to Lennox, “Anything yet?”

“I’ll ask,” he replied, and called out to one of the lookouts on top of the building. “You guys see anything yet?”

“Negative, sir,” the closest stated, but then a male soldier behind him suddenly perked. He pulled his binoculars down, surprised, but then brought them back up to check again. At the same time, she got word from her kids that they had spotted something in the distance.

“Got a visual!” he shouted with a British-accent, and looked to them as he pointed out to the location. Everyone else perked up at once, too.

“Pop flare!” Lennox shouted as he moved away from Prime toward the outer groups. “Both lines get ready! Package is en route! Make sure we get it here safe and sound!”

“Time ta get crackin’,” Jazz spoke up, transforming his hands into a machine gun and shield. “You heard ‘em, Autobots! Weapons hot n’ ready ta go!”

All around them, both human and Autobot soldiers prepped their weapons as the flare popped off high into the sky. Above, the Seekers began to circle closer, but high enough so as to not interfere with them. However, that changed as they suddenly veered, and odd chatter came over the bond. Catherine barely had time to ask before they shot off just as explosions created a cloud of dust about the same distance the soldier had stated.

“We’ve got Starscream!” Arcee shouted while pointing in the direction the Seekers had gone.

‘ _Oh hey! It’s that loser we faced that one time! This’ll be easy!’_ She could hear Slingshot laugh.

“Hey, whoa, whoa—Jazz, where’d our air support go?” Lennox barked as he ran up to the blue-and-white mech.

“Ta fight ‘ol Screamer. Normally I’d get on ta them fo’ breakin’ off, but the ‘Con was shootin’ at Sam, so they helpin’ the kid out,” the mech replied, his optics gazing out to where the events were going on. “That’s least of ya worries, Commander. ‘Cons will be comin’ soon if Starscream is here, ya dig?”

“I ‘dig’ alright. Alright, let’s get ready guys! Fight’s coming soon!” the brown-haired man shouted, and everyone’s anxiety rose as their weapons became posed to fire. Catherine kept her weapon ready, but her focus was on her boys, who were indeed going after the Decepticon Seeker. They were all confident enough for the job—even Silverbolt, though the light-gray mech was trying to keep them all focused, too—but it was _Starscream_. She didn’t remember them facing the ‘Con before, but it had to have been by chance that they beat him easily enough to make them so sure of themselves. Granted, she could have just been suffering from motherly worry, but whatever the case, her heart beat faster as she watched them charge after the tan-colored, alien-tattooed jet.

She took a step forward as they weaved in and out, firing laser and bullets, which the Seeker dodged with the ease of one who’d been fighting much longer than they had. They still chased after, though, and he continued to dodge. Then, another thing to worry about; their headphones suddenly crackled and died. Lennox made the obvious inquiry, and soon threw it on the ground, cursing. Starscream—it couldn’t have been anyone else—had cut off their communications.

“Slag. Even our comm. links are busted. Soundwave must have given Starscream a new toy,” Sideswipe growled, and Jazz nodded grimly.

“I see how this day is going in this godforsaken desert,” Epps grumbled, looking around like he wished he wasn’t there. The sentiment was a mutual one.

“You expected anything less?” Jackson inquired, and the black man gave him a “shut-up” look.

“Just consider it like an extra challenge, man,” Anthony grinned, and was given looks from everyone. “Better than thinking everything’s fucked up.”

“Perhaps it might be best if we _stop_ talking about it,” Alexander piped up, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “And, instead, focus on the actual battle since we are technically already under attack.”

‘ _Aw, what? This guy’s up and leaving!’_ Fireflight huffed over the bond, and the redhead looked out, narrowing her eyes to try and make things out. The sun was in a bad spot, but she could just barely make out Starscream blasting off to high speeds—probably a few Mach—and leaving her boys in the dust.

“Jazz, do you want them to follow Starscream?” she called out to her older brother figure, whom quickly followed her gaze and then nodded.

"Yeah, see what he’s up to. He might be afta Sam, n’ we wanna keep ‘im away from the kid.”

‘ _Alright, boys. Tail that slagger and take him out of if you can. Make sure you report anything,’_ she ordered over the bond, and got cheers and whoops from the other side. She grinned at their confidence, but it faltered when she spotted some of the odd looks her team gave her.

“Uh… I’ll… I’ll explain later,” she mumbled, and they thankfully shrugged it off.

It didn’t take long for her kids to report back that Starscream had landed on a pyramid along with another mech—one with large feet and a body like the other Autobots, but he could fly. Before she could panic at the thought of _who_ the mech was, a sound like gunfire went off. All eyes turned to the sky where a shower of red, burning balls rocketed down from the sky. She knew right away what they were, and apparently so did everyone else as they tensed. The meteors crashed into the sand, throwing up a cloud of sand that obscured the sun. She tried to count how many thuds and bursts of dirt that appeared, but lost it after ten. 

“Looks like we’ve got a good battle on our hands,” Sideswipe hummed, his optics glowing with excitement. “Haven’t had to take on this many ‘Cons in a long time.”

“Take it easy, ‘Sides. Ya job is ta stay with ‘Cat n’ make sure she n’ Sam find each other, keep ‘em safe, and get Prime back. Ya can’t go runnin’ off ta go slag some ‘Cons,” Jazz barked.

The silver mech snorted, “I know. I wasn’t going to!”

“Good. Alright, roll out ‘bots! We got enemies incomin’!” the white-and-blue-striped mech bellowed, and things got moving.

“We got a whole lot of fight coming our way!” Lennox hollered as well, and already soldiers were fixing their positions, crouching low to avoid enemy fire and keep their aim steady. He moved from Prime, ushering Catherine and his team with them to better cover, and glanced around the remains of a wall he was using for it. He turned to the nearest soldier. “How many?”

“I got about nineteen of them, sir,” he replied at once.

"This ain’t good,” Epps said, shaking his head as he turned to look behind him. “This ain’t good at all. We’re about to get our asses whooped!”

It certainly looked that way. The Decepticons had landed all around them, and from the dust they emerged, tall and foreboding. Only a few had any alternate forms, and if they did they soon transformed. The rest retained their Cybertronian forms and looked even deadlier. Their frames were sharpened and spiked, and then their weapons soon showed themselves in the form of blades and blasters. All their optics, though, were red and looking for blood and Energon

“Alright, we know the Decepticons are probably looking for Sam, and we know that whatever he has, he thinks that you can use it to bring Optimus back to life, ‘Cat,” Lennox explained, catching her attention and those around him. “The other soldiers know the same, and will be looking for the kid while drawing fire. I want some scout teams going out to look for him, though!”

“I’ll lead it,” Ironhide spoke up from behind, surprising them at first, but then the mech took off in the last direction the boy had been seen. The Triplets, Springer, and Brawn quickly followed after along with a handful of NEST soldiers when Lennox motioned for them to do so. He made sure to tell them to pop green smoke when they found Sam, and then to come back through the nearby pillars. The plan was to ambush the ‘Cons that would follow the kid—assuming things would work out, which they didn’t always do; especially when the enemy was a race of warring, giant robots. They were going to do their damned best, though.

“Catherine,” the Commander called out, and the redhead crouched down beside him. “Try and stay as close to here as possible. We’ll do what we can to get Sam as soon as possible. Now, I don’t know what’s going on, but do you have some kind of connection with the jets? The ones that brought you back?”

She nodded, “Yeah, they’re my creations so I have a bond with them. I can talk without the radio.”

“Then I want you to tell them to be ready to provide air support if we need it. I know they’re distracting enemy air units, and it’s not my duty to command them, but I want to get as many people through this as I can.”

“I understand. Letting them know now,” she replied, and, to the Seekers: ‘ _What’s going on boys? We might need you for some air strike soon—you guys up for it?’_

Silverbolt spoke first, ‘ _We’ve engaged the Starscream mech again, but he’s proving a worthy adversary. I believe we saw two other Autobots with a few humans, but they seemed alright. The other mech we spoke of is still on the pyramid, but has not moved to attack. If you need us, we will be able to spare a few moments.’_

_‘Not me—I’m gonna slag this guy!’_ Slingshot smirked.

‘ _Not if you keep missing!’_ Air Raid laughed, and his reddish-brown brother shouted back.

_‘Uh… Guys? Something’s… Something’s happening over at that pyramid thing,’_ Skydive said uneasily, and Catherine’s worry rose as she tried to look in that direction. Beside her, her team also grew tenser and tried to see what she was looking for.

_‘Whoa, whoa; boys—what’s going on? What is it?’_

_'It would seem more vehicle have arrived and now their forming something. It’s Cybertronian—like us—but it’s_ enormous _,’_ the light-gray Seeker replied, a mixture of awe and fear in his voice. _‘It’s like… like a giant… Well, I’m not sure—the best I can say is a gorilla, but it’s just… Oh! It’s sucking up the dirty and everything around it—it looks like those two Autobot and humans are in trouble! Should we help?_

“’Cat? What’s goin’ on over there?” Jazz barked as the fighting began. The ground around them exploded and gunfire went off, along with Energon blasts.

“Something’s… Something’s over there—it’s Cybertronian, but it’s _huge_ apparently. Like a giant gorilla, they said?” she responded, and both he and Sideswipe looked at one another, optics widening. Her stomach dropped a little.

“’Cat, tell ‘em ta attack that thing! It’s Devastator. If here’s here, then things just gotta lot worse than they already were. Tell ‘em ta keep their distance and aim fo’ the joints. Forget Starscream!”

‘ _Leave Starscream alone and go after the giant thing. Attack the joints and keep your distance, alright? Try to not hurt any bystanders or the Autobots!’_ she ordered, and confirmations came at once.

A blast whizzed overhead and sprayed a shower of rock and sand over them. A few curses rang out, following by gun shots. More energy blasts; more sand explosions. Some pillars burst apart and crumbled to dust. Screams of pain echoed through the air; bodies flew everywhere and landed, charred or broken or bleeding or all three. Energon joined it as Autobots were hit, too, but didn’t go down. The Decepticons weren’t going down, either, but they were suffering hits. One even staggered as a particularly strong blow struck them in the hip. They were soon back up, though, and firing round after round. More human screams. More gunfire. More Energon blasts.

Catherine aimed around the corner of their cover and fired. The shot went wide, unfortunately, and she ducked down as another Energon blast came near them. Jazz and Sideswipe ducked and dodged as well, firing off rounds when they could. Sideswipe, while preferring his blades, did have a long range weapon, which he happily fired. Thankfully, the Autobots' counter attacks kept the Decepticons at bay, and also allowed for the humans to retreat when necessary.

“ _¡Mierda!_ ” Fig howled as the ground next to him burst. “ _¡Casi me dejo el culo!”_

“English, Fig! _English!_ ” David shouted back as he returned fire. His shout turned into a pained scream as a blast caught his shoulder, searing through his camouflage shirt and to the skin. It tore a good chunk of flesh with it and he fell back, grasping as blood pooled out through the blackened flesh. Fig was by him at once, helping him up and pulling him back behind their cover. Alexander and Anthony helped watch out for him, while Jackson quickly used the remains of the seared sleeves to wrap the wound.

“Oh shit. Shit. Shit,” Catherine breathed as she joined them, helping the Asian tie the bandage. “David. Shit. It’s all the way to the bone.”

“He’ll be okay. We just gotta keep him out of the fight,” Anthony spoke up as he grasped David under his arm and around the waist to help hoist him up. “You still awake, man?”

A “fuck-you” was his response, which brought a chuckle from the Italian as he leaned the blonde-haired man against the wall. He was given his gun back, which he kept close to his chest if only for comfort since he would not be able to properly wield it. Fig took up crouching beside him, not wanting to leave his comrade. Alexander, Anthony, and Jackson took up “guard” positions around them. Catherine would have joined them, too, but she was needed on the other side with Epps and the side David was on was a little crowded.

' _What’s going on your end, boys? It’s a little quiet_ ,’ she inquired, and, indeed, there had not been much talking on their end. She wasn’t too worried, but she had expected more confident outbursts.

_‘Sorry, Mother. This thing is proving more difficult than we thought. Our attacks aren’t doing much damage,’_ Silverbolt responded after a few moments. _‘He’s started destroying the pyramid now, and it appears there’s something within it. We’re still attacking, but the Starscream Decepticon has been proving an annoyance.’_

_‘That’s the understatement of the century! That slagger keeps popping shot at us while we’re trying to bring this guy down! And then he runs off so we can’t pop him back!’_ Slingshot growled.

' _Just stay calm and keep up the good work; I know you guys can do it!’_ she replied, and she could tell their confidence had increased tenfold with her encouragement.

“Catherine!” Lennox shouted, grabbing her arm. “C’mon, we’re moving back!”

“What? Okay—but why?” she shouted back, letting her lead him while Fig and Jackson helped David up and followed after. Alexander and Anthony covered the rear, along with Jazz and Sideswipe. She looked back to see more humans retreating, and so were a few Autobots. She gasped as Gears’ chest exploded when a blast struck him head on. Armor and wires and Energon went everywhere and he fell, dead on the spot. She cursed.

“ _That_ ’s why,” the Commander spoke unhappily, and she pumped her legs harder. They retreated back closer to Prime, using a stronger, more fortified cover of walls and pillars. Many humans were still running back, but some weren’t going to make it—one was struck with a blast and reduced to a black corpse. The Autobots were faring better, but they looked beaten and bruised, and more than one was missing. She looked toward where Ironhide’s team had gone, and as soon as she did explosions went off. She doubted any of them had perished, but she hoped they were alright. They just might have to retreat back soon, too.

And in the midst of it all, she had to wonder: Where was Sam?

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Aw, slag it all!” Air Raid snarled as his latest fray of missiles struck the gigantic Cybertronian but only made him rear back his head, roar, and then go back to destroying the pyramid. They’d been at it for ages now, and _nothing_ seemed to work. Even the two Autobots’ assault hadn’t done much besides taking out a few screws and wires, and now they were running about firing a few shots, but they were more worthless than their own. There had been two humans before, but they couldn’t find them anymore, and it wasn’t really their biggest concern at the moment. That Starscream 'bot wasn’t making things any easier, and while they were able to send off a few missiles his way, he would just spin and dodge out of range. It was _infuriating_.

“We just gotta keep trying. He’s got to crack at some point!” Skydive shouted. “I’ll go after ‘Screamer next. I think I have his flight pattern down so I should be able to catch him with my lasers.”

“Take Slingshot with you then. He has the best aim and we can’t take any chances,” Silverbolt barked as he released an electric volt from his nose. The arch of lightning struck Devastator’s back, and the mechanical beast went into a spasm that stalled him for a good few seconds before he slowly went back to work.

“There has _got_ to be something we can do! Something that’s actually going to _work_!” Slingshot growled as he took his turn, firing his two large blasts that struck the arm joints and shaved off some armor and wires, but the giant gorilla-like mech kept going.

“Well, if you know what to do then I would be happy to go along with it!” Fireflight huffed while he made his turn for another attack. They went through another round while Silverbolt did just that. Again, Starscream taunted them, coming in close to let off some blasts, which barely missed, and then skirted off out of range of both jets. Devastator took the next barrage with less ease than before, but continued going.

His work was going well, too; already he had removed the entire top of the pyramid, and underneath was something metallic, shiny, and obviously Cybertronian. It was large, too—almost as big as the stone structure that had covered it. The Seekers didn’t know what it was used for, but if the Decepticons were after it, then it was probably for something bad; something that would hurt their Mother, and they could not have that. But what could they do? _Nothing_ was working. But there had to be something besides what they were doing—something that could finish it all at once instead of having to continue at a painstakingly slow pace. Their weapons just weren’t strong enough. They weren’t the right size, either. If only they were bigger. if only they could combine like Devastator had.

And then it clicked.

“I’ve got it. Do you guys feel it?” Silverbolt spoke up suddenly, veering away. His brothers were silent, but he knew they understood, too, as they felt what he was talking about. They had felt it all this time, but never knew what it meant until now. They veered up, abandoning the giant Cybertronian and Starscream and moved into a particular five-jet formation. And then they began to change.

They didn’t know how they knew how to do it, but they did—Air Raid likened it to his knowing how to teleport. Whatever the case, they went with it. Their bodies shifted and changed as if they were returning to their bipedal form, but instead changed into something else.

Silverbolt’s frame turned into something resembling a face with a helmet similar to his own, while the legs extended down along with the wings to form what looked like the beginnings of the chest and middle back. Air Raid and Slingshot became like arms and shoulders, attaching directly to both of the light-gray mech’s sides, and from their ends appeared hands fitted with three fingers. Fireflight and Skydive followed similar procedures to the reddish-brown and green-armored Seekers, but attached to Silverbolt’s legs and from their ends cam feet instead of hands. Wires and armor locked them into place, their colors became a uniform dark gray, their shape was distinctly humanoid unlike Devastator, and their optics were gold instead of green.

Their transformation complete and without wings, they plummeted down to the ground. However, Silverbolt’s movements had been strategic—their fell right on top of the gigantic mech, who was no longer so big now that they matched his size. The beast roared as they grasped hold of his neck and went tumbling down, dragging much of the pyramid with them. They thought they heard the distant shout of a surprised human, but it was gone from their processors as they rolled onto the sandy ground and ended up with the beast on top. They punched and kicked wildly as Devastator opened his maw, revealing the circular layers of sharp, jagged edges that served as teeth. The beast was too heavy to remove from where they were, and the jaws aimed to clamp down on their face. They grasped the upper and lower jaw tight and used all their strength to push him back and up. The movement allowed them to get their feet beneath them and then they were able to throw the beast away.

They quickly lunged at Devastator, ramming him into the pyramid again. They grabbed his head and slammed it into the stones again and again even as the beast clawed at their chest and roared and roared. The enemy Seeker attempted to thwart them as well, but the blows were hardly noticed as they continued their barrage. However, they were interrupted as the beast swung his arms backwards, smacking them into the Seeker’s abdomen. The blow was strong and painful, forcing them back, and Devastator attacked at once, sinking his jaws into their shoulder. They howled in pain and rage as they clawed at his optics, ripping one out successfully. The beast would still not let go and the teeth began to rip through armor and wires, so they went even further; shoving their hand into the optic socket and grabbing all the wires they could. The pain was too much to bear and their foe let go, which only helped them pull the wires and gears loose.

“We. Are. Superion!” they roared, their voices in unison, and they began another barrage of their fists.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Sam launched himself over the hood of a car. If he hadn’t been running for his life, he would have noted how he’d done the Dukes of Hazzard proud. However, he _was_ running for his life, and so he kept pumping his legs as fast as they could go. Mikaela was right behind him and he spared a glance back to make sure she was still there. Like from the start of all this with that crazy robot chick, she was still with him, and for it he was grateful. He was worried even more so. It was one thing if it was just his life in trouble, but hers was, too.

“Come on, come on!” he called, holding his hand out for her, which she took. They gripped each other tight, and ran on towards where the big fight was going on. Normally he would have been running _away_ from the fight, but he had a mission. The knowledge in his head had brought him to Jetfire, and the old Seeker had told him the symbols in his head wanted him to find the Matrix. They also told him that they could use it to revive Prime—with the help of Catherine. His heart dreaded the thought of his best friend being here in this mess, but he knew if there was anyone who could bring Optimus back, it was her. The Matrix would help her. He just had to get to her. If only an army of Decepticons didn’t stand in their way.

“Sam! Saaaam!”

His eyes widened larger than dinner plates as he spotted something that made his heart drop. His parents. Here. In the desert. With Decepticons right behind them. Regardless, he raced for them, and only paused as the sound of a metallic spring reached his ears. He looked up in time to see a red-armored Decepticon with two long, sharpened metal whips and a bottom that bended and made the spring sounds as it did so. It crashed down between them, throwing sand up everywhere and knocking his parents and Mikaela away from him. His brain worked fast and he stood, raising his arms in surrender. The ‘Con merely aimed a gun-formed hand at his parents and spat and growled at him. His father screamed for him to run, but there was no running from these things.

“Sam Witwicky,” it spoke slowly and with a metallic tone, golden optics glowing menacingly.

He shuffled in his pocket and showed the sock filled with the Matrix remains, “Don’t hurt them. This is what you want. You don’t want them.”

“Go! Go!” his mother shouted, but he only shouted back for her to stop.

“Just get out of here!” his father cried next, but, again, he knew it was no use. He knew even if he gave them the Matrix he was as good as dead. The Decepticons wouldn’t let them go. They were going to kill them all and—

A whistle. A familiar whistle.

He glanced back, spotted the golden armor, and looked back at the red mech. His confidence rose at once as he knew he now had back up. Bumblebee was here. He had found them, and now he could help them. He could trust ‘Bee. His friend would get them out of this.

“Just don’t hurt them,” he pleaded again, though he was less worried now. “I know what you want. And I know that you need me because I know about the Matrix.”

The red mech began to circle him, and he moved, too, towards his parents. He kept the sock held out and his eyes trained between the Decepticon and Bumblebee, whom had silently made his way to the top of the building directly behind the enemy. Thankfully, the mech had not caught on and didn’t seem that bright, turning its head this way and that like some kind of curious bird. His sense of security faltered, however, when the ‘Con swung its arm, slapping the whip attached to into the ground a little too close for comfort.

“Bumblebee!” he screamed, and the yellow Autobot went into action.

The scout spun from the roof, ramming his heel into the Decepticon’s jaw, throwing him back and away from the humans. The mech flailed as it tried to rise while ‘Bee readied his fists. The ‘Con roared and spun its whips at the Autobot, but they were deflected and a punch was thrown in return, which connected. Again the mech was thrown back, however this time he caught the edge of the building and used his free whip to strike the Autobot’s face. He jumped to down to continue the barrage, but Bumblebee dodged and pulled his mask down, throwing a round of strong, armor-cracking punches. The ‘Con swung, missed, and was kicked back. He came back at once, forcing the yellow Autobot to dodge roll over Mikaela, whom quickly scrambled away. Bumblebee charged, ramming his knee up into the ‘Con’s jaw and tore off their helmet armor, which sent them both flying. He then shoved his heels into his opponent’s back, landing with a sickening crunch. He did not stop there, grabbing the ‘Cons arm and ripping it loose and rendering it useless before being thrown off.

From behind the buildings a silver quadruped—Ravage— crept, hip-mounted weapons prepped and ready. The one-optic beast moved quietly, tail swishing dangerously, and edged closer, aiming for the yellow Autobot. His ally was being beaten mercilessly, although that was not its greatest concern. As soon as Bumblebees back was turned he lunged out, releasing a heavy round of machine-gun like fire. The bullets weren’t very effective against the armor—he did not expect them to be—but they caused the mech to stagger and he leaped, latching his claws and fangs onto the exposed wires and gears. He tore as fast as he could, venturing up to the head to sever the main line. Bumblebee was not to be at Ravage’s mercy, though, and grasped the quadruped’s neck tightly and wrung him off. He took hold of the tail with his other hand and pulled with all his might. The metallic feline shrieked with agony as it was ripped apart without remorse and then became silent.

Bumblebee took it in stride, throwing a punch into his still remaining foe, pulling him further away from Sam, Mikaela, and his parents. The humans scrambled back towards the cover of a car while the yellow Autobot kicked and punched and smashed, breaking through armor and frame. A strong blow spun the ‘Con, and he snatched up the opportunity, grasping both arms and, with a final, mighty kick, tore the limbs free. The mech gave off a pained, vengeful roar, but it was for naught as they fell, twitching and sparking and pooling Energon. The Decepticon moved to rise, but it was defeated, and fell, spent. Bumblebee clicked and whirred victoriously, raising his face shield, and nodded at Sam. The young man nodded back and, parents and Mikaela in tow, he took off.

They ran hard and fast, their Cybertronian companion covering their trail. They moved wildly through the sands, sticking to the cover of the buildings. All around they could hear the explosions and cries of battle, and it only made their hearts beat faster and faster. His parents’ legs could not keep up, though, and Sam knew it every time he looked back into his distraught mother and father’s faces. He and Mikaela could make it, but they couldn’t. They were getting weaker with each moment, and their psyche was already breaking. Each echo of gunfire and explosion only made it worse.

They finally faltered as his father staggered, and they stopped to take a much needed breather.

“I don’t know,” he began, looking around crazed, “what’s going on, but we’ve got to move! There’s got to be a way out of here!”

Panic sent a rush of adrenaline through him and he grabbed Judy’s hand just as explosions ripped up the buildings around them. They squealed and ran, but more explosions stopped them. They ran back the way they came, taking up refuge underneath an arch. Sam needed only a few moments to look at them, panicked and frightened and ready to break down, to know what needed to be done. He called out for Bumblebee, and the yellow mech appeared at once.

“You get them somewhere safe, all right?” he shouted and turned to his father without waiting for confirmation. “You’ve got to go with ‘Bee and get to safety.”

Ronald grabbed his jacket, “No, this isn’t up for discussion! You’re my son! You’re my son!”

“I know,” Sam replied, but the man cut him off.

“We all go together! We’re all going together!”

Sam grabbed him back tighter, “Dad, stop, okay? Get in the car. He’s gonna get you to safety. You know, you run. You don’t stop, you don’t hide, you run. You hear what I’m saying, okay? I’ll find you when you’re safe.”

“No,” his father said, but his resolve was weak and his eyes showed it.

“You’ve got to let me go, Dad. You have to let me go. You have to.”

Father and Son gazed at one another in a silent moment, his wife’s words lost to both of them. Ronald looked his son straight in the eye, and he knew—he knew this could be the last time he might see his son. This could be the last moment he ever had with his boy, and there was so much he wanted to say but there was no time to say it. All the regrets of things never said or done passed through his mind, but he could not say them. He could only understand that his son was becoming a man and he was going to have to let go.

“You come back!” he finally said, and it was all he could bring himself to say before he took Judy’s hand and raced off to Bumblebee. Sam then turned to Mikaela, grasping her arms and telling her to go with them, but like before and like all the times before, she shook her head.

“I’m not gonna go without you, Sam,” she told him firmly, and he only needed a moment before he took his hand tight in hers and raced off again to find Catherine. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“I gotta get out there. Sideswipe, stay here n’ keep ‘em safe,” Jazz ordered, not even glancing at the silver mech as he broke cover and took off towards the retreating humans and Cybertronians. He easily dodged and ducked under blasts as he loped through the sandy terrain.

Starscream’s little trick may have knocked out their comm. links, but it hadn’t gotten rid of his short-range scanners. Not good for communicating, but they were good for keeping track of teammates. From it he could tell they’d already lost four—Gears; Scattershot; Longarm; and Rollbar. That was four good Autobots already gone. Unfortunately, he was used to it. He’d lived long enough to see countless of his friends and comrades die. Some he’d even held in his arms as there sparks faded, but right now it irked him. He knew why, too, but he tried to keep that as far back in his processor as possible. He was going to have to confront it soon, he knew, but not now. Now he had to focus on getting these guys—both his kind and the humans—out of direct harm. Who better than the Autobots' one and only saboteur? He knew how to thwart the enemy best.

_“Hound!”_ he shouted to the green-armored mech, and the tracker veered over, dodge-rolling a blast as he did so. _“Gonna need ya hologram abilities fo’ a bit.”_

The green-armored 'bot raised an optic ridge, _“Things are that bad?”_

_“Naw, but I gotta make it hard for the ‘Cons, ya dig?”_ Jazz grinned, and the tracker only paused for a moment to smirk back before handing over a device on his arm. The saboteur equipped it and took off again, this time aiming for the red-armored tank Autobot. The mech was glad to see him, although a little perturbed about being interrupted from blasting Decepticons. He was happy to spare some of the explosives he always carried around for a good finale, however, and let Jazz be on his way. The blue-and-white mech ventured on, pausing to alter his paint scheme to better suit the terrain. He much preferred his white with blue stripes, but tanned would keep him better hidden.

He paused behind cover to glance over to his right where Ironhide’s group were fighting and searching for the boy. He knew they were damaged, but all alive. Knowing they were all power houses, he let his worry for them abide and carried on. He came to Gears’ corpse next, and, while he regretted it, he took it along for his use. He knew it was an awful thing to use a comrade’s corpse for his own ends, but it would be useful for taking out Decepticons. He would curse himself later, though, and so he held back hesitance as he set a charge within the blue-armored mech’s chest. He also places a decoy beacon on him as well—a neat trick to attract the enemy’s attention. A potential wounded, immobile Autobot was an opportunity a ‘Con would never pass up. He just hoped more than one would take the bait as he hid Gears behind a broken wall.

He hid his own signature—Soundwave wasn’t the only one that could, he thought bitterly—and raced back down the dunes, out of immediate sight. He had two more charges, but no corpses nearby. He could use the buildings, though, and there were plenty of them. His teammates were also far enough away now that he could set them off comfortably. He worked as fast he could, knowing the enemy was right at his doorstep. He kept the explosives partially concealed and set more decoy beacons in the same spots. Again, he rode on the fact the ‘Cons wouldn’t pass up potentially easy kills, and he was confident enough considering the ‘Cons they were facing were the basic henchmen eager to get said kills.

_All set,_ he hummed, racing off just as the Decepticons appeared over the ridges. He dropped down at once as low as he could go, letting his colors blend in which the sand and also putting Hound’s equipment to use. He would be completely invisible to them—just another lump of sand. And, sure enough, it was working. The Decepticons were oblivious to his presence as they stood at the peak of the dune, firing at the allies behind him. They paused, though, when they finally caught onto the beacons. Three went, one for each spot. Jazz waited patiently, his body completely still even as more ‘Cons came closer.

_3…2…1…_

It couldn’t have gone more perfect—all three explosions went off at once. The Decepticons were torn apart, the force of the blast and debris ripping apart their armor and wires and spark. They screeched for only a few short moments before they were silenced forever. Body parts went everywhere along with their Energon, and it did not go unnoticed. The other ‘Cons bellowed and raged at the insult and began to charge forward. While Jazz was out of explosives, he did have one more weapon: himself. It was just a matter of waiting, and it was not going to be a long now.

The first Decepticon was only one small step away from him when his arm shifted into his rapier and shoved its way through their spark. Their optics widened with surprise and realization before dimming. The saboteur promptly kicked the body away, shoving it into the other enemy mechs coming towards him. They were less surprised than their companion, but that did not save them from his machine-gun like weapon which ripped holes through their armor. It only crippled the nearest target, and so the ‘Con and his allies opened fire, but Jazz was already moving and firing again.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Ironhide snarled as a Decepticon’s lucky shot seared through his shoulder’s armor. The more sensitive wires and gears beneath were safe, however, and he lifted his arms to fire a heavy barrage at them. The shots struck one dead on, obliterating them on the spot, while the other got off with a few burns and scrapes. They retreated back, though, understanding who had the bigger gun here. It helped that his fellow Autobots were assisting with their own blows.

Chromia and her sisters had taken out more than a few ‘Cons, though suffered some hits of their own. Thankfully, it had been nothing serious, but the black mech was spending more time being beside his Spark Mate. Springer and Brawn had brought down two each and were still going strong—he’d expected no less from them. However, more Decepticons had landed, and the numbers they had depleted were refilled once more. The enemy now had about nineteen, and they had lost four, bringing the Autobot numbers to seventeen. It wasn’t even, but that was plenty of fire to counteract the ‘Cons.

Unfortunately, their human allies could not say the same. They’d already lost at least six humans in their scouting group, and he didn’t dare ask how the main group was doing. The screams had been enough to know they were falling fast. It didn’t matter how well they were trained; their bodies simply could not stand up to the Decepticon scum. Ironhide was trying his best to draw the fire, but the humans were easy targets and even debris could kill them. They were also foolish in their bravery. He had told them more than once to look for the boy instead of trying to shoot their tiny weapons, but they were adamant on taking on the enemy. He admired it—really, he did—but he’d always thought it was foolish to allow the humans to help them, and this battle only proved his point.

_“Two more ‘Cons incoming,”_ Chromia spoke up as she rolled up to his side and fired. His sparks reached out to hers automatically as he joined her barrage. Sure enough, two more orbs of red shot down into the sand. Ironhide let out a growl as he checked his scanners. No more Autobots were down, but the red dots were getting closer and were now two—no; _three_ stronger. He narrowed his optics, wondering who the third was. Unfortunately, there was no time to worry as another blast struck his shoulder. He cursed, more than just armor flying off, but he kept on his feet and both he and Chromia blasted the ‘Con to pieces.

_“We’re going to have to pull back soon!”_ Springer shouted as he came up to them, crouching behind their barrier of rubble. _“We’ve got more ‘Cons to the east closing in, and these humans don’t stand a chance.”_

Ironhide growled again, _“We cannot leave until we find Sam!”_

_“We can’t stay here, though!”_ Arcee barked back.

_“There’s better cover just over the dune, Ironhide. We_ need _to retreat,”_ Elita-1 added, and the black mech waited a few moments before reluctantly nodding.

_“All units fall back! Follow me!”_ he roared, shooting off more blasts as he back-pedaled. All Autobots and humans followed, the Cybertronians doing their best to cover their smaller companions. They managed it well enough, getting them over the dune and to the cover—a bundle of larger empty buildings, which were gratefully used to rest against. The Autobots ducked behind them, too, reloading their weapons. They were about to begin another assault when Chromia’s optics caught sight of something hiding within a nearby building.

“Spotted Sam!” she cried out, and all optics and eyes followed her gaze.

“Sam!” Ironhide shouted, and started moving towards him.

“Ironhide!” the young man shouted back.

Elita-1 got to him first, “Follow us to the pillars. We’ll take you to Optimus.”

He was about to comply when a missile arched and struck her in the face. She cried out as she fell, her face and chest scorched and damaged, but intact. Her sister came to her aid at once, grasping her arms while firing at the large Decepticon that had reached them. Springer helped cover and Ironhide moved in for a closer shot. The humans around them scattered, firing as they ran.

“Get out, Sam!” Ironhide howled, sparing a brief glance back at the young man. “Get to the pillars!”

The young man only hesitated for a split second before he pulled Mikaela with him and ran as fast as his legs could take him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine yelped and cursed at the same time as the wall behind her exploded. Thankfully, she was shielded by a silver body, which took the brunt of the force, and also managed to protect her team. She heard him curse as he spun back up and fired. Once she’d wiped the dirt from her eyes she joined him, as did her comrades.

It felt like the fighting had been going on forever now, and who was to say it hadn’t? There was no telling who was winning, either. While the Decepticons were still alive and kicking, many had fallen and their barrage was not as numerous as before. However, countless numbers of humans had died and she didn’t know how many Autobots. Sam was still nowhere to be found, either. Jazz had gone off to God-knows-where, too, and had yet to come back. She had no doubts he was alive, but it would have been nice to have an Autobot leader figure for the others, whom had taken up doing what they were: hiding behind any form of cover and firing when they could.

‘ _We need to move back. The ‘Cons are getting too close’_ Sideswipe spoke through the bond, and she couldn’t agree more. They were close enough that she could make out the damages in their frames and see their optics clearly. However, they were already practically right by Prime’s body, and she didn’t know if they had a way out. Lennox hadn’t acted like he knew if there was, either. Granted, he had been busy fighting and trying to keep everyone alive.

“Lennox!” she shouted as she pressed up against the wall to reload at the same time he did. “’Sides says we need to move back!”

“Yeah, I know, and we are. Let’s go!” he shouted back, motioning for any human in his vicinity to do so. He took off and their team and others followed. Snipers on rooftops jumped down and rolled up into a sprint. Sideswipe and the other Autobots provided cover fire, but shots still strayed and struck humans or the debris that caused them did. One such blow caught Alexander in the back, throwing his burned body forward. Catherine stopped to grab his shirt, careful not to touch the bleeding, blackened flesh, but he wasn’t moving and Anthony pulled her on. David fell next—too weak to go on and he forced them to let him go. Debris showered him in the next few seconds, and there was no looking back to see what happened.

And then—over the dunes came a miracle. Tanks. Lots of them. And soldiers. Lennox started to wave at once, shouting at them and then pointing at the Decepticons. The new arrivals didn’t need him to say more; they began to fire at once while they raced behind new cover. They brought more than artillery, though--they also brought radio communication. They finally had a connection with Morshower and backup. Lennox took the opportunity at once, tossing the radio to Epps, whom called up the Air Force, asking for more aerial support in the lack of such from Catherine’s Seekers, whom still fought Devastator. Things were looking better, and more good news was to come as a helmetless soldiers fell down beside Lennox and Catherine, whom had taken shelter by a tank.

“Sir! We’ve spotted the target! They’re heading right for the pillars!” he shouted, and the redhead stood up at once. The Commander grasped her shoulder to pull her back down, his eyes urging her to wait.

“All right. Precious cargo’s coming, guys!” he hollered, grabbing more than a few people’s attention.

‘ _Sideswipe, can you see him?’_ she asked, looking for the young man himself.

_‘Not yet. I’m looking, though!’_

“Catherine, stay here and be ready. We’re going to bring Sam to you,” Lennox spoke and she nodded. He gestured for their teammates to gather, and after the most recent barrage ended, he shouted for them to go. They were joined by Ratchet, Hound, Knockout, and two other human teams, whom raced towards the pillars while avoiding fire. A few humans fell to blows, and Hound suffered a hit to his arm, but continued on.

“Sam! I see him!” Sideswipe suddenly shouted, pointing at two running figures in the distance. Lennox changed course at once, and Catherine felt her heart skip as she followed their path to where the young man was, pulling a familiar young woman behind him. They were bruised and bloodied and dirty, and also running from the assault of Decepticons right on their heels. They were running for dear life, their hands nearly white as they clung together, and there was a wild fear in their eyes. The ground behind them exploded, and they almost fell, but managed to keep going. The Decepticons following them were pushed back by tank blows, and the distance between them and Lennox closed.

The redhead let a sliver of relief flow through her veins as she saw Lennox pull both Sam and Mikaela behind a wall, but then had to look away as the tank beside her burst apart. She cursed as she dived away, Sideswipe again providing protection. He moved her to better cover, and then rose to fire at the nearest ‘Con. She joined him, momentarily forgetting her friend. More blasts forced her to duck for cover and for Sideswipe to crouch over her protectively. Screams erupted around her, soldiers blown apart and charred. A metallic scream followed and she knew another Autobot had fallen. And then, another surprise—this one came from the skies.

The black aerial craft dived low and transformed in mid-air into a large Seeker—almost the same size as Silverbolt, but painted pure black and carrying a hatchet. He also looked old, but he was by no means weak, which he showed by throwing his weapon into the nearest ‘Con, ripping it through and tearing them in half. His entrance was lessened some as a continuous string of sand bursts approached the new Seeker and from the ground a scorpion-like Cybertronian emerged. It snarled as it dug its claws in, ripping and tearing through metal and wires. The Seeker growled with pain, but bit it back to grasp the metallic scorpion and crush its head into the ground as he fell. She didn’t know who they were, but they were on their side, and she hoped they brought more back up. There was not much time worry as Sideswipe suddenly plucked her up and rolled away, keeping her close and protected.

_‘You okay?’_ he inquired as he let her back down, though kept low, protecting her still.

_‘Yeah. A little surprised, but okay,’_ she replied, hefting her gun to fire again. He did the same, and at last a small pause came in the barrage. She used it to look back towards Sam, and her heart sank at once.

He was running. He was making a straight bee-line for her general direction, but he wasn’t alone. From the black smoke behind him emerged a foreboding, silver form; one which she knew well and feared deeply—Megatron. And he was out for blood. Sam’s blood. And he took it. The Decepticon leader raised his arm and fired, and every single shot struck at the boy, two at his feet, and one into his back. His mouth opened in a scream, but even if he had made any sound she could not hear it as he flew, spun, and fell upon his back, unmoving. She thought she screamed, but she could not remember or hear it. She barely even realized that the Autobots and NEST soldiers had pushed Megatron into retreat. She didn’t even know she had begun running until she stumbled and fell into the sand. She was up in seconds and charged toward her friend, her weapon and the battle forgotten. All that mattered was Sam. He wasn’t moving.

“Sam! Oh God, Sam!” she screamed as she came upon him. She grabbed his face first calling out to him desperately. He was silent, though, and did not move. His chest did not rise. He wasn’t breathing.

“Sam!” Mikaela shrieked as she came up beside her, but was pulled back by Lennox. He edged the redhead away, too, but she kept a grip on his face as her foster father began to try and revive him. His attempts were doing nothing, though. Catherine could feel no pulse; feel no movement from him. Tears welled up in her eyes as she began to realize Sam—her best friend; her brother; her family; her Sam—was dead. He couldn’t be, though. Sam couldn’t be. He couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t _right_. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to live. He couldn’t be dead.

Around her people were moving and calling for help. Autobots had made a protective circle around her and the others, fending off any Decepticons that dared venture near. Epps called for a medical team while Lennox continued to press at the young man’s chest. Mikaela pleaded for the boy to wake up, and Bumblebee arrived with parents in tow. They emerged and raced forth, already prepared to burst into tears. His mother did so when she finally got a good look of her boy’s charred form and father cried out in agony. Bumblebee looked with sorrow, his hands rising to grasp his head while he fell to his knees in despair.

Catherine saw it all in one look, and then returned her gaze to Sam. He couldn’t die. _She_ couldn’t let him die. She didn’t care if he was human—there had to be something her powers could do. She gripped his hand in which the sock was held with both of hers and closed her eyes, summoning her powers. It wasn’t hard to find, and she closed out any voices and sounds that shouted in surprised as she grasped the power. She did so tightly and with force, commanding it to activate and heed her command. It did not wish to obey, but she forced it, and it was hers. Her body lit up at once and her eyes flashed open, glowing bright, nearly-white blue. She ordered the power into the boy, demanding it revive him. A wave of energy burst from her and formed into electrical arcs which forced everyone back.

She vaguely recalled Sideswipes voice shouting out for her and the sock held between their hands growing scathingly hot before the world was blinded with white light.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

She knew this place. She had been there before and knew it well. However, she was not alone this time. There was another here with her—a young man. Sam. Samuel Witwicky. Her friend. Her _best_ friend. Her brother. Her family. He was there, eyes wide and unsure, and he reached out to her the same time she did for him. They embraced, both out of fear and happiness to see they were BOTH alive. They parted, but held one another’s arms, staring with even wider eyes as they realized they _were_ alive, but that they were not on Earth. This was that other place they had gone to before.

**“We have been watching you a long, long time,”** a deep, metallic voice rang out, and both humans turned, startled, and found before them twelve towering beings made of black metal and red, glowing eyes that were warm instead of callous. It was difficult to make out details, their forms standing against a blinding light of the sky and perhaps the sun. They were very different from any Cybertronian either of them knew, but they did know they were like their alien companions. They were archaic—like long lost gods. The two mortals stared in awe and certainly the twelve beings deserved it with their regal stance and air that emanated from them.

**“Long have we waited for the union of your powers,”** another spoke, and Catherine and Sam glanced between one another.

**“But things have changed** ,” the third rumbled and he did so in such a way that it worried the redhead. She grew even more so as their gazes fell upon her, the warmth becoming cool.

**“You have sullied the purity of the Allspark. Its power was never to take life—only give it,”** a fourth hissed. She frowned and took a step back.

“No—I haven’t,” she shook her head and moved to retreat once more, but something stopped her. That something also lifted her head to stare into their optics.

**“You have fallen and are unworthy,”** the first stated again, and a sharp pain entered her skull. She arched back, grasping at her temple, and Sam had to help keep her from falling as her knees buckled. The feeling—the _infection_ poured into her. She felt it blacken her insides and rot her flesh. The images flooded her sight and she tried to scream, but her throat constricted and she could scarcely breathe. She saw it all; she saw everything. She saw the Fallen; saw her corruption; saw her insanity; saw the hatchlings; saw her suck the very life from them; saw herself snuff their sparks to form her five Seekers; she felt their pain; she felt their screams; she felt them die. She felt it all and it burned her alive.

**“However, you, boy, have proven worthy,”** they spoke together, their optics turning to Sam. He held Catherine close as the tears rolled down her cheeks. He stared, confused and angered.

**“You have fought for Optimus, our last descendant, with courage and with sacrifice—the virtues of a leader. A leader worthy of our secret,”** they continued, still in unison, and the young man felt a heat beginning to grow in his hand. **“The Matrix of Leadership is not found; it is _earned_. Return now to Optimus. Merge the Matrix with his spark. It is your destiny.”**

Before he could speak, they raised their arms and their bodies turned to dust which blinding the sky, and then the world vanished.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

With a mighty roar, the five Seeker’s combined form rammed Devastator’s head into the pyramid yet again. Energon stained countless stones as more armor and wire and gears spewed forth. Growling, their two hands grasped both jaws and pulled with all their might. Their opponent was weak now, bruised and beaten from the battle, while the Seeker’s combined form was still brimming with energy and bore little damage in comparison. The beast-like Cybertronian could barely muster a growl as its head was ripped in two and its body fell limp and dead. The Seekers dropped the two pieces and roared victoriously followed by kicking the corpse for good measure.

Two missiles suddenly struck their back, which brought a roar of pain. Their golden optics turned to the skies where Starscream whipped by. They snarled, but they could not fly in this form to give chase. They did have weapons, though—ones they had not thought to look for in their previous fight. They were looking for them now, and they raised their arm-mounted missile launchers. They took aim, but it was difficult to hold as the Decepticon Seeker weaved in and out of their scopes, and they growled in frustration.

That notion stopped, though, as a unison flash of pain ran through them. They screeched and lurched over, clutching at their chest. The pain was intense, and they knew where it came from, which made them worry and fear enough so that they knew speed was of the utmost importance. It was enough so that they knew to separate from one another, reforming their original bodies. They hovered for only a moment before their thrusters burst to life and they took off for the main battlefield. They said nothing in their mad rush; there was only the single burning need to return to their mother and help her.

_“You will not escape me this time!”_ Starscream howled as he suddenly dived down from above. Slingshot had no time to shout as the Decepticon Seeker slammed into him in bipedal form, slashing his wing. The reddish-brown aircraft managed to transform in time to begin a grapple as they descended rapidly to their earth, the cries of his brothers echoing through the sky as they chased after.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Jazz growled as he punched his latest foe in the face, breaking their jaw, and then stabbed his blade through their spark, extinguishing it. He had no time to pause as another ‘Con appeared, gun raised. He used his latest victory as a shield and then launched his weapon, shoving it through the mech’s stomach. It was not a killing blow, but it stalled them long enough for Jazz to destroy them with his smaller Energon bullets. He was forced to abandon his close-range weapon, however, as two more enemy units emerged and fired. He rolled out of the way and dived behind shelter, recharging his weapon again and forming his shield with his now-free arm.

The Pit-spawned things kept coming no matter how many he put down. He was fine with that, though. He’d faced his share of hopeless situations where enemies kept coming. Granted, he hadn’t had to face an environment where sand and other small particles kept grinding their way into his gears. Again, he would manage, and at least his enemy was facing the same problems. His enemy was also not as battle savvy. They were stupid and slow. They were like young soldiers too eager for a kill in their first war. It made them arrogant and made them make mistakes; ones which he made good use of, like the one on his right.

The Decepticon stumbled in the uneven sand and he lunged, grasping their gun arm and using their sticky finger to shoot the other Con. Jazz then snapped the arm, followed by the neck, which loosened the head so it lopped onto their chest. He dropped them unceremoniously and checked the second, but they were definitely dead. Their processor had been melted away. He let them be and began his way back to the main force. He had seen the air strike and knew the worst was over there, which meant he needed to be there, too. The stragglers had been making it difficult, though, but now they were gone.

He made up the dune in one leap and was about to slide his way down when pain erupted through his frame. He fell down, clutching at his chest as his spark twisted in its box. He gasped as images and words flashed through his processor. His optics turned to the smoke of the main conflict, and he knew what had happened. He had been dreading it for so long, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He had hoped he could have talked to them before this. He had hoped so much, and now—now he knew those hopes we ended.

_No. No, not yet. There’s still somethin’ I can do!_ he growled against the words. He couldn’t let things end this way. He had been brought back for a reason, but it was more than that for him. He was still needed. Catherine needed her guardian—her big brother. She needed him still.

With a curse he staggered up and moved to slide down, but instead tumbled as an Energon blast ripped through his hip. He cried out as he fell, Energon stains following him. He rolled up at once, biting back the pain, and looked up to find another Decepticon—this one larger than the rest—smirking down at him and laughing. His optics narrowed and he prepped his weapon.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

A second shockwave of pure energy burst from the arcs of electricity, which shoved the group of humans that had gathered around Sam back, save for Catherine, whom still gripped his hand tight. Her body no longer glowed, but the metallic objects within their hands did. And then—the young man woke with a gasp. His eyes went wide as he took in sharp breathes of air and rose up. His gaze met Catherine’s, which was filled with tears. The memories were clear, but he was filled with a purpose that had to be fulfilled. Yet, sorrow kept him there for a few precious moments as he rose to his feet, their hands still clasped.

"I’m sorry,” he said, and it was all he could bring himself to say before he ran off toward Prime, leaving the redheaded young woman where she sat, her palms facing upward. Her eyes fell down to them, the tear droplets turning the sand caked on them into mud. She knew what she had done. The memories were still there, though she no longer felt them. She no longer felt infected. She no longer felt the power thrumming through her. She no longer felt _anything_.

The world was as good as dead around her—the battle was no more. She did not even notice as the Autobot Commander was revived or when the demon that was the Fallen appeared and stole the Matrix before leaping off to the Harvester. She did not notice as Prime gained wings to take flight and the battle finally came to an end. The Earth was saved, but she did not know it. All she knew was that she no longer had her powers and she no longer felt the bonds.

She was alone.

She was empty.

* * *

* * *

**TMWolf:** _WHELP. I LOT HAS HAPPENED THIS CHAPTER. And you probably all hate me for it c: Let's look at the list shall we?_

  1. _Jazz, Slingshot, and Elita-1 may be dead_
  2. _Many Autobots, including Gears, are dead._
  3. _The Aerialbolts can combine! (Can you guess their name, lol?)_
  4. _David & Alexander are dead._
  5. _A LOT of humans are dead._
  6. _A lot of Decepticons are dead._
  7. _Optimus was revived_
  8. _Catherine lost her powers_
  9. _A lot more I can't remember 'cause I only skimmed through this last quick read, lol_



_Right-o. So. The battle is over. I didn't write it, but Prime was revived and kicked the Fallen's ass and everything. Now all that's left is the after math. Sooo... I'm just going to, um... go hide. For a while. Maybe forever. :D K THX BYE! -flees-_


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath of the fight with the Fallen is almost as bad as the battle itself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in update! I forgot to do so and I had no internet for two weeks thanks to our shitty internet provider thanks to winter storm power outages!
> 
> We're back though, and I'll try to be better about updating <3

The battle was over.

NEST and the Autobots had won.

The Harvester was destroyed.

The Fallen was dead.

Optimus had the Matrix.

The world was safe.

Many had died, but many more were alive, and more survivors were steadily being found and taken care of. Already celebrations were ringing out as men clasped shoulders or even embraced. Laughs and tears and dancing began. Autobots relaxed and rested and reunited with their revived Commander, who seemed even greater before them now than ever before. A great part of it was for the metallic artifact in his hands, which emanated a blue glow that was warm and cool at the same time and felt vaguely familiar to those that touched it—like feeling their own sparks.

However, there was one being who stayed apart, unable to join her friends and family and comrades.

There was no way Catherine could describe it to someone. At least, not in a way they could understand. Yes, humans had the bonds formed in relationships and friendships, but the kind of bonds she had felt had been so much more. She could feel them as something more than a tightening of the heart that one felt when in love, or the lightness of laughter or the sorrow of despair. They had felt _physically_ a part of her, and now they were gone. Just... _gone_. It was as if they had been torn out from her, and she was empty. She was emptier than she had ever felt before.

What was worse—the memories.

She remembered now. She remembered her confinement on that damned ship. She remembered the Fallen and what he had done. She remembered his infecting her. She remembered nearly losing herself. She remembered killing all those innocent hatchlings just so she could escape. She had taken countless sparks without remorse. She had done so without thought. She hadn’t cared she’d torn away their sparks—taken their chances at life. She no longer felt their pain and their agony, but the sensation lingered as if on the verge of coming back. It teased her, threatening to drown her again, and that made it all the worse.

Her eyes continued to stare down at her hands as they had been even long after the battle was over. The sun was setting now, but she still stared. They were covered with sand, which had mixed with the blood. She didn’t remember getting cut, but, regardless, the wound wasn’t healing. She also felt weak, and she knew why. She was reminded every time she dove within herself, searching for the thrum of energy that had resided within her for years now, but found nothing. There was absolutely nothing. There was no power. Her body would not glow. She felt no warmth. She was cold. So very cold. The Allspark was gone.

She was human again.

“Catherine!” a familiar voice shouted, urgency and concern thick in their voice. Her head moved slowly—sluggishly, even. It felt so heavy as she did so, and she was surprised she didn’t fall down because of how much effort it took. She found the twin, glowing orbs of blue easily enough, and they belonged to the bundle of silver metal that was crouched down beside her. She found she could not read them, though. They were just orbs before her; light against the dark sky brought on by the setting sun behind them. They stared back, though, looking at her for something, she supposed. She opened her mouth to speak although her throat was dry and ached, but the memories came on harshly. Her mouth closed and, shame following, she looked away, hands falling into her lap.

“Catherine,” Sideswipe called again, reaching out, but she did not look. He paused, too, as shouts came from the top of a dune not far away. Both human and Cybertronian looked up along with many others to spot Hound half-carrying, half-helping Jazz walk. The second-in-command’s hip was completely torn and cuts and dents riddled his body. Energon dripped to the sand, but many of his comrades knew he had suffered worse than that before. There was no need for him to look so weak and about to offline. Regardless, Prime reached the scout first and took Jazz into his arms. He quickly rushed to Ratchet, whom began to scan his growing-increasingly-limp form.

The redhead saw it all, and it, at last, spurned her into motion. She stumbled at first, her legs uneasy after being sat on for so long, but then she was off at a mad sprint. Fear compelled her, pushing her weakened body to scale the dunes of sand and ignore those around her. She reached Jazz quickly enough, stumbled again just as she got to his leg. She fell this time, but managed to stagger up and grasp onto the armor panels of his arm. His optics, glowing weakly, turned their gaze upon her. He smiled sadly and reached for her, but his arm could not make it past his torso.

“Ratchet, what’s happening to him?” Prime asked from behind her, but the medic only shook his head.

“He should be fine, but—but I don’t understand it. His spark is _failing_ , but the damage isn’t enough to cause it to!” he replied, working through the scans as fast as he could.

Jazz still looked at the redhead, “Sorry, ‘Cat. I gotta go back. They're callin' me back. I don’t want ta, but I gotta. I’m sorry.”

“N-no!” she croaked, eyes watering, and gripped his armor tighter.

“See ya ‘round, shorty,” he chuckled and his optics’ glow faded. His body slackened and his head fell. Ratchet paused in surprise, and then began a mad rush to open his chest and get at the spark box within, but there was only a dark hole. Jazz’s spark was gone, and the medic could not understand, but he still searched for something—anything. Catherine, however, knew he was gone. Her guardian—her big brother—her Jazz, was gone. She didn’t know how or why, but he was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. She couldn’t bring him back. She had no powers. He was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. _Dead_.

“No,” she whispered as she stepped back, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. He couldn’t be dead. This had to be a dream. This had to be some God-awful nightmare. She just couldn’t wake up.

The whine of jet engines reached their ears, and soldiers looked up alarmed, at first, but calmed as they spotted their Seeker allies. However, there was one missing—and that missing number was held in the arms of the largest, light-gray one. All look distressed, and already it was easy to tell what had happened. They ran for the green-armored medic, though they no doubt already knew that their brothers fate.

“Medic! Help us!” the green-armored Seeker shouted, grasping Ratchet’s shoulder tightly and turned him towards them. He gestured continuously at the ruined form of their reddish-brown armored brother, and the medic knew already there was no hope. The chest was completely destroyed and the spark box—empty and dark— had been pulled free. His wings had been torn apart along with part of the helmet. Ratchet had a good idea who had done the deed, and he knew there was no hope. He could see the brother’s knew it too when he looked up and told them, their optics full of sorrow, rage, and pain.

And then the Chief medic remembered Catherine was there. Prime realized it, too, as did the Seekers, and they turned to the redhead with wide optics. Her eyes were even wider and tears were already falling down her cheeks as they stared at the prone form of the Seeker. Her nightmare had only grown worse. First Jazz and now Slingshot—her _child_? How could this be happening? Why was it happening? She couldn’t take it. Everything was falling apart. The world was caving in on her. Her legs buckled and fell. The words of denial poured from her lips as thick and as fast as the tears did from her eyes. They grew louder with each passing moment, and nothing the Cybertronians could say or do could comfort her. Not even the touch of her foster father or his words could stop the tears. Even Sam was unable to quell her, though he managed to move her away from it all; to a place where he could hold her close and let her cry. And all the while the silver mech stayed close, watching on sadly.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

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Night settled on the sand of Egypt, and with it came the cool desert air. Lennox had hoped to get everyone out before then, but it was taking time for everyone to get everything together and clearance for the nearest base. Most of the dead had been found, brought together, and covered. The wounded had been patched together the best they could, and the worst of them had been emergency evacuated. Ratchet got all the Cybertronians well enough to travel, and prepped the dead for proper transport. Optimus helped Lennox with it all, keeping things under control and keeping in touch with command to move things along.

Catherine and Sam, meanwhile, spent that time together, leaning against the remains of a stone wall. Her sobs had finally died down, but she kept her head in her knees while the young man kept an arm wrapped around her shoulders tight while his other was stretched across his chest, grasping her hand in comfort. He knew it wasn’t much, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. He could only let her use his shoulder to cry, and he had, so now he held her in the hopes his presence would be enough to ease her pain.

His parents and Mikaela had appeared some time ago, but he had made sure they didn’t stay long. His mother and father had meant to help comfort her, but he knew they would have most likely only made it worse. They, like most everyone else, didn’t know about her powers and wouldn’t understand the bonds she had with their Cybertronian friends—hell, _he_ didn’t always understand, but he knew they were important to her. Mikaela he knew had wanted to help in some way, and while she might have been able to understand better than his parents, he waved her away, too. Her expression was one he wasn’t able to read, and it both confused and pained him, but Catherine was more important right now.

She sniffed and lifted her head, wiping at her eyes. He squeezed her hand and pulled her shoulder closer causing a quick smile appeared. It was only a flicker, but it was a good step up from what it had been before. He leaned his head against hers and cooed soothingly. It didn’t do much, but he finally felt her hand squeeze back.

"Hey, Sam,” she spoke at last, albeit weakly—weaker than he’d ever heard her speak and it worried him.

“Hey, Catherine,” he replied, tightening his grip.

She became quiet once more, but her head did not fall back to her knees. It remained up, and her eyes gazed out upon the sands. She looked to the soldiers moving around with their flares and lights, and also the Autobots whom helped by shining their own built-in headlights. She looked up to the sky last, letting her head fall back on her shoulders, and let out a bitter, defeated sigh. She sniffed again as her eyes caught a flash of light on silver. The silver mech appeared in her view, but she looked away before his optics could turn to her. Her friend noticed, but said nothing as the redhead looked down at her feet.

“Catherine,” he began slowly, knowing he was treading on dangerous grounds. “I’m… I’m sorry about… about all that.”

She took a long time to reply, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I brought it to you. I thought it would fix everything. I mean—it fixed Optimus, but… I just—I wouldn’t have found it if I knew it would do… _this_.”

“Sam… it’s _my_ fault. I… I did… I did terrible, horrifying things,” she croaked. “Just— _God_ , Sam. I- I…”

He pulled her into a hug, “Hey, hey, calm down. It’s okay.”

“Okay?!” she cried out, pushing away. “It’s not okay, Sam!”

"Not now, but it will be. We can work this out. You and me are unstoppable together, remember?” he replied, trying to lighten the mood.

She sighed, “I… I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know about this time.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey—that’s not the Catherine I know,” he tried again, chuckling a little, and she smiled, but it was a sad one. She let her head fall back into his chest.

“I wish I could be the old Catherine. I wish I could go back to the start—before I fucked everything up— and stop this from happening.”

Sam wanted to say something—anything, to help cheer her up, but nothing came to mind. What could he even say? He didn’t know what had happened. She wasn’t going to tell him, he knew, and he wasn’t going to ask her even if it might help. It was just too painful for her now. So he stroked her back instead, letting a small wave of fresh tears soak into his shirt.

“Is there… Can I do anything?” he spoke up after a few minutes.

“Just stay here, Sam. I don’t feel good.”

“Do you need me to get Ratchet? Sideswipe’s right there so—,” he began, but was cut off when she shook her head and tightened her grip on his shirt.

“No. No, don’t get anyone. I don’t… I can’t—I can’t face… Just… no.”

Sam said no more and held her close. He spared a glance to the silver mech who stood just behind the stone wall separating them and found the blue optics watching. He was not the best at reading them, let alone people, but he could tell there was a pain there. He knew instinctively it wasn’t his place to say, and looked away. He didn’t look back, and the silver mech never left even as the passing minutes turned into passing hours.

The moon reached a quarter of the way into the sky before they finally began to move out. Cargo planes had been gathered from the nearest base and sent to pick them all up—dead and alive. Everyone was glad to be leaving the desert; particularly the Autobots, whom had gotten tired of getting sand in their gears and were looking forward to getting some much-needed Energon. Even Catherine managed to perk up some as she boarded the plane with Sam, his parents, Mikaela, and Sideswipe whom followed behind. The four Seekers let their brother be loaded while they flew beside the planes.

Sam stuck with Catherine throughout, and this time he allowed his parents to join them. While they didn’t understand, they knew she was upset although she forced a smile for them, and embraced and comforted her as best they could. Mikaela tried, using smiles and grasping her hand gently, but he knew it was awkward for his girlfriend and she eventually sat aside from him and Catherine. Lennox had come over, too, as did a few other soldiers whom he recognized and realized were her teammates. She brightened a little when they came to her, and she was comforted by their presence, but he knew the pain was still there. He knew it would be there for a long, long time—maybe forever. He knew she would hide it, too, bury it deep down within her like she did most everything else, and that worried him.

He knew better than to confront her on it, especially in the state she was now, and let it be as their flight continued on. Others came and went, expressing their comfort and, gradually, her dour demeanor appeared to lighten. “Appeared” being the key word. She put up the good front even after they had landed on the base and everyone was shuffled towards the harbor where a ship awaited them. Word, according to Lennox, was that they were trying to get out as fast as they could. The reason being that—while the secret was exposed—they didn’t want any more evidence to get out right now, and so they were all heading back for Diego Garcia. Sam, Leo, Simmons, his parents, and Mikaela would be joining them, too, but they would be leaving for home within the week. The soldiers and Autobots would be staying on the island, though, and attempt to work out the leaked secrets and the aftermath.

The ship was plenty big and had enough rooms to accommodate all of NEST—Cybertronian, humans, and all. It was there, during those many hours on the water, that Sam finally let Catherine be on her own. She had asked for it, and although he didn’t think it was a good idea, he adhered to her request. Sideswipe stayed with her, but at a distance, and he saw pain in both of them, mixed with shame; Catherine especially. Still, he went off and mingled with everyone—mostly Mikaela, with whom he had yet to have some time with since the end of the battle. It was a welcoming moment, tender and loving and relieved that everything had worked out. When he finally departed from her to, he had to make a solemn promise to _never ever_ do that—dying—to her again. His parents came next, and while they didn’t make him promise anything, he knew they expected the same and were just glad their baby boy was alive and that they got to find each other again.

He’d talked with Lennox and the NEST soldiers, too, but then Leo and Simmons came along and took him away. He had a feeling they were going to have a hard time working with his over-zealous friend on keeping everything a “secret”, but he was confident they could work something out. Simmons already knew the drill and apparently he had been offered a spot within NEST for his “valor” and his part in their adventure, but surprised everyone by telling them he had to “think” about it. Sam had thought the crazy ex-S-7 agent would have jumped at the chance to be back in the game, but he figured he’d wait until all the “trouble” boiled over before deciding. Unfortunately, bringing that subject up got Leo going on about it. Thankfully, Simmons took over responsibilities for Sam, leading the boy away to begin a speech of what exactly the job entailed.

Next was Bumblebee, whom he couldn’t have been happier to have around. The guy had saved his life and followed him all the way to Egypt, never once giving up on him. He’d always had his back and he couldn’t ask for a better wing-man. The yellow Autobot knew it, too, and joked and playfully boxed with him. He might have been an unimaginable and ruthless warrior in the fight, but he was also the ultimate comrade and Sam wouldn’t and couldn’t have asked for a better guardian.

Last was Optimus, and the Autobot Commander appeared when he was still hanging with ‘Bee. He asked to talk, and his friend let him go respectfully. Optimus led him up to the deck and out towards the edge where the sun was at last rising. It was a warm sunrise, and its light was welcoming considering what its previous fall had brought. And there the Autobot Commander spoke, thanking him for all he had done and all he had sacrificed. He thanked him for believing and not giving up even in his darkest hour. Sam blushed, of course, and tried to lessen his actions, but the Prime refused to let him do so. The young man thanked the mech, and then they watched the sunrise further in silence for a few moments before Sam decided to act. It might not have been his place, but he knew something needed to be said.

He told Optimus everything. He told him all about what had happened in that other place—that other world. He still didn’t know where it had been, and he found he didn’t want to. He didn’t really want to ever go back to that place that had brought such pain to his friend. He told Prime about that, too. He told her what the mechs—Primes, he was told—had done to her. He asked Optimus to look after Catherine. He asked him to repay his debt by making sure she stayed safe and happy and that nothing bad happened to her ever again. He asked Prime to do what _he_ couldn’t.

Sam knew he and Catherine still lived different lives. While this experience had been extraordinary and almost like a dream, what awaited him was a life of college. Yes, it would still be a little unordinary. He would always have some connection with the Autobots—he hoped it would be Bumblebee—and he had to admit that he had felt a thrill in this journey, but he knew it wasn’t going to lead any further than this. NEST was fascinating, but he couldn’t see himself going around the world fighting in battle like this. He wasn’t even sure he could take another. He was content with going back to his normal life with his parents and Mikaela. And that’s why he needed to make sure they would look out for Catherine—because he wouldn’t be right there to help her.

Prime agreed, swearing to do whatever was needed to keep her happy and safe, and Sam nodded, knowing the mech would keep his word. No more was said after that, and eventually Sam returned below deck. Like most everyone else, he was tired and sore. Like everyone else, he was given a place to sleep. However, he decided to find Catherine instead, and she happened to be right where he’d left her; sitting on the floor, her back leaning against the metal wall behind her with eyes staring numbly at the floor. Sideswipe was near her, too, still at a distance. Sam gave him a sympathetic smile, but the silver mech merely looked away, and the young man continued on, settling himself down beside the redhead.

“Hey,” he spoke up, and she glanced over at him before sighing.

“Hey.”

“How are you doing?”

She closed her eyes, “Tired.”

“I figured,” he chuckled softly, set his legs out straight, and pat at them with his hands. “You can use me as a pillow if you want. I never paid you back from when we were little.”

A true smile finally appeared on her lips as she looked down, considering it. It took a few seconds, but she slowly adjusted herself to where she could rest her head comfortably on his thigh, while the rest of her was curled up close. Sam rested his arm over her waist, where his hand found hers, and he told her to rest. She did, and, much later, so did he.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

**-O-**

\-------------------------------------------------------------

A hand shook her shoulder gently, “Catherine… Hey. It’s time to go.”

The redheaded young woman blinked slowly as she took in the face of the man crouched before her, hand still shaking her shoulder. It was Lennox and he released her once she sat up. Her body was sore all over, as was expected, but it was nothing compared to what she felt elsewhere—in a place that physical pain could not describe. Still, she pushed herself up, and Sam did the same. He groaned, sore as well, and even attempted a joke of how she was so hard headed his thigh was bound to have a bruise. She made a half-hearted chuckle, and then let her foster father lead her out. They passed by Sideswipe, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. The burn of the shame was too much, and so she kept her gaze low and refused to look back even though he followed them.

“We called ahead so we already have a room prepared for you and your parents, Sam,” Lennox told the young man, whom nodded with a smile.

“Thanks, uh, sir,” he started, but the Commander waved for him to stop.

“I know we’re not on the ranch, but just call me Lennox.”

“Oh, uh, okay, uh, ‘Lennox’. I, uh, guess they’re going to do the whole debriefing thing, huh?”

The older man grinned a little, “Yeah, that’s how it goes. Things are a bit different this time, after all. You’re still considered a ‘wanted’ man, you know. We gotta clear that up before you can go home.”

Catherine felt her heart speed up a little at the words. She kept her mouth under control, though, and didn’t blurt out how she didn’t want Sam to leave. It wasn’t right for her to ask that of him. He had a life outside this place and it would have been selfish to try and keep him. It would be fine once she got through all this. That’s all she needed to do—get over it. Yeah. That was all. If only… If only it were so easy.

“Catherine,” Lennox’s voice rang out, pulling her from her thoughts. “We’re going to have a service tonight for the fallen soldiers. If you’re feeling up to it, it’ll be out on the hangers. If you’re up to it.”

She nodded, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll… uh, I’ll see.”

“For now, though, get something to eat and rest some more once we get to the base.”

She nodded again and they continued on, descending down the ramp attached to the side of the ship. They weren’t quite at the base, but they weren’t too far, either. The other Autobots besides Sideswipe and Prime had gone on ahead, using the paved roads to head for the base, and many of the human soldiers had already left in transport trucks. Only a few remained, and they were soon off into the remaining trucks once Lennox had cleared everything up with the people at the ship and dock. Optimus and Sideswipe followed close behind, and in just minutes they were there.

It was bustling with activity, soldiers greeting comrades who had made it back and mourned those that hadn’t. The government goons were also taken care of, sent back to exactly where they had come from now that both commanders of NEST were back. The Command Center was placed back under NEST control and Morshower was brought up on video feed to begin talking about what was going to happen now. Catherine wasn’t to join them, though. Rather, she and Sam got something to eat and then headed out to the beach where they sat together. The young man did his best to keep a conversation going, and she had to admit it worked some. She thought less of the memories and her loss, but every break and every pause allowed them to come back. Still, it helped some... even if only a little.

They went on like that for some time, and then she went to her room to be alone and rest. She was admittedly still tired and was able to find some peace in her sleep. The memories returned when she woke hours later, and although she had been wavering in her confidence of overcome it, all shattered when she came to the hanger. She knew she probably shouldn’t have gone, but she had, anyways. She told herself she needed to go—perhaps it could wake her up—but if the flash of pain at the sight of the countless coffins and motionless, metal bodies of the Autobots was the “wake up”, then she wish she had kept sleeping.

Still, she stayed through the procession. She stayed and watched them walk the coffins down and the Autobots carry their fallen brethren. She listened as the gun shots cracked and echoed through the sky. She followed with the salute and waited until her Commanders moved away to do the same. She ignored everyone she went by—human; Autobot; her children; Sam; Sideswipe. Everyone. She couldn’t face them right now. She couldn’t handle seeing their expressions. She couldn’t handle them looking at her and seeing what she had done.

She found her way back to her room and forced herself to sleep in order to find some peace, but it was only for a little while, and when she woke and felt like her own room was closing in on her she knew—she knew she couldn’t stay here. She had to leave. She had to get away from them all. She had to. So she went to find Lennox, which was easy enough. He spared time for her at once, asking if she was okay as any good parent would. She shook her head and he asked her what was wrong.

“I…I want to go home,” she replied back with a pained whisper, and Lennox’s gaze softened as he gripped her shoulders in comfort.

He nodded, “Okay. We’ll get you home.”

A week later and Lennox made good on his word. She, along with all the other “pedestrians” that had made it to Egypt by other means, left on a cargo plane back to the United States. They were joined by two Autobots: Bumblebee and Sideswipe. The former would go with Sam, and the latter would join Catherine at the ranch. While the redhead knew she could not bring herself to meet the silver mech’s gaze, it was decided by more than one voice of authority that he was best to go, and so he did. She did not argue, and so they left, and once in their home country, Catherine parted ways with Sam and the others with half-hearted promises to visit. Then she and Sideswipe left for the ranch. Sarah was waiting for them when they arrived and welcomed them both with open arms.

The country air was a nice change, and Catherine hoped it was just what she needed. Yet, as days turned to weeks and the memories still plagued her, she began to doubt it. And all the while she continued to wish she could undo it all or at least wake up from her nightmare.

* * *

* * *

_Nobody said it was easy_

_It’s such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be this hard_

_Oh, take me back to the start_

* * *

* * *

**TMWolf:** _I'm kind of tempting to post a link to a toll face, but I feel like that would be too much. So. UM. Yeah. Jazz is dead, guys. So is Slingshot. Not only that, but she can't feel the bonds. Now, I'm sure you're wondering or you're pretty positive that means the bonds are gone... well, you'll find out. You know I don't like spoiling you guys :P Granted, I might have to since you're all probably going to murder me right now, ha ha. Wait- why am I laughing? You're going to kill me! D:_

_Anyhow... Yes, Catherine can't even look at Sideswipe. She's that ashamed of herself. Sideswipe, of course, doesn't think the same and now she's just making it worse for both of them- especially her own self :c Hopefully things will work out!_

_By the way, time skip next chapter. Not long, mind you, but time skip. Sarah will tell you how long, so just read. Oh, and YES- THINGS WILL GET BETTER. It just requires a depression first. And Sam knocking sense into a certain someone._

_And now I'm going to run. Bye! :D -flees-_


End file.
